


Penitence and Propriety

by MangroveBaby



Category: Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Gen, Novel Length, Regency, Regret, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-01-20 17:57:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 43
Words: 86,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21285821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MangroveBaby/pseuds/MangroveBaby
Summary: Confined, provoked, and embarrassed by her life in Hertfordshire, Elizabeth Bennet looked forward to a summer spent traveling with her beloved aunt and uncle. With months of freedom, and the boundless northern landscape, all would be set right.But it was not.
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy, Elizabeth Bennet/George Wickham
Comments: 681
Kudos: 565





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is complete. I'm posting a few chapters at a time as I make my final edits.  
I'm happy to hear about any editing mistakes or other suggestions along the way.

####  **Prologue**

It is true, universal, and acknowledged that mistakes made by others result from malice or deficiency, while mistakes made by ourselves originate from pure motivations crippled by poor luck. Fortunate is the young person who can find an older mentor who will look past this instinctive condemnation and provide good advice without giving in to natural contempt.

Mrs. Lucy Gardiner could see that the path of leaving their parents’ house would not run easily for her husband's five nieces. Mrs. Gardiner, though still youthful herself, had come through those most difficult years blessed with an excellent husband and a beloved daughter. And possessing a generous heart as well, she was now eager to help the young ladies find similar and satisfying life situations. 

This spirit of generativity led the Gardiners to host and socialize their nieces when possible, to offer them direction when useful, and to mourn their missteps when unavoidable. When their eldest niece Jane was jilted in love, they brought her to London for a season to cheer her. When their second niece Elizabeth was at odds with her parents, they invited her on holiday with them to the Lake Country.

For Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the invitation was irresistible. Her affection for her Aunt and Uncle was great; so too was her desire to get away from the friends, family, and location that had provoked her for the past year. It was a fresh new chapter in a life that felt stunted.

And so it was with true disappointment that she received a letter the week before their intended departure, delaying the excursion. "But what are a few days of waiting ahead of such pleasure?" she reminded herself quickly.

All would be set right.

But it was not.

The next morning an express came, reading that Mrs. Gardiner had been suddenly taken ill. Mr. Gardiner worried and asked permission to send his young daughter to the Bennets' as a precaution. Another letter followed hours later begging assistance because that same girl and her father were now ill also and the household was in chaos. Despite Mrs. Bennet’s fear and Mr. Bennet’s indecision, Miss Jane Bennet and Miss Elizabeth left immediately from their parents’ country home for London. There, in a modest townhouse, they acted as determined nursemaids for five days before Mrs. Gardiner let go of her life. But it was only after Mr. Edward Gardiner and Miss Alice Gardiner followed her into heaven, two days later, that the sisters could find the opportunity to mourn.


	2. Chapter 2

Together, arm in arm, Miss Jane Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet walked through the town of Meryton, trailing behind their three sisters. The five young ladies had gone out together one fine afternoon to look at bonnets and trimmings at the milliners shop. Afterward, they had agreed that each would go their own way, before reconvening at their Aunt Phillips' house for tea. Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia went as a pair to the larger dress shop, promising to find Jane if they ran short of money. Miss Mary left on her own to make a short call at the parson's house, where she frequently exchanged conversation and books with the man's sister.

That left Elizabeth and Jane to peruse the windows of High Street, unhurried.

"I am glad that Lydia convinced me to come out today," said Jane. "It would have been a shame to waste the weather."

It was a beautiful day. And though Elizabeth was rarely of mind to stay in the family home anyway, Jane was inclined to sit indoors unless some specific errand was at hand. The year was well into Autumn and for two weeks the confining weather of an early winter had settled the county. But on this tremendous afternoon, the sky was clear and the sun was strong on their shoulders. 

"Yes," replied Elizabeth, shuddering at the thought of the season ahead. "It was such a dreadful chill."

Jane looked her sister over. "You aren't falling ill are you?"

"No, no. I am perfectly well as you can see. It is only that the lack of motion and long confinement were affecting my spirits."

With that Jane could sympathize. "I suppose that we could all do with some cheering." Jane, while not quite melancholy, was not so untroubled as she had been in the past. 

"Yes," Elizabeth answered too seriously, "the sort of cheering that only new ribbons provide."

Jane laughed which made Elizabeth smile also. 

"Mama will be happy to see what we have bought. I think that I will offer to redo her cape for the assembly. She mentioned to Lydia yesterday how well she liked Lady Lucas' and I have more lace here that I can readily use myself."

Elizabeth too had heard her mother talking about the cape but had thought little of it. "You are a good angel, who we do not deserve,” Elizabeth told her sister. 

Jane could never respond to a compliment, even from her closest relatives. Her shy eyes darted about the street and then back to her sister. "Look Elizabeth! Oh, look who it is!"

"Mr. Wickham!" Elizabeth squeezed her sister’s hand tight at the surprise.

The gentleman in question had already spotted the Miss Bennets and was rapidly crossing the street from the tavern where he had just exited. His handsome features brightened with a smile. 

Elizabeth and Jane smiled back. It seemed as though a lifetime had passed since Elizabeth had last seen Mr. Wickham. In truth, with all that had happened with her Aunt and Uncle, there had been very little time to even think of the young gentleman since that dreadful day six months earlier when Mr. Darcy had proposed. Mr. Darcy had been so horrible, had acted so rudely, it made Elizabeth glad to see the man whose very name had driven off her unwanted suitor.

With a few quick strides, Mr. Wickham was at their side, walking their same direction. "What a joy it is to see you both again," he said with unabashed pleasure. "Please, may I join you awhile, wherever you are headed?"

"It is very good to see you sir," said Elizabeth. She pointed ahead. "I think that you will remember our Aunt Philips from your previous time here. We are on our way to her home, just up the street. But what brings you back to Hertfordshire? I had thought that the militia was still encamped in Brighton."

"You are correct. I am here in your charming town on my commander's business, and for only a few short days. But I admit that I had hoped to run into someone from your family. We had no word of any of you since Miss Lydia left us three months ago. Mrs. Forester was quite distraught, you must know, at losing her excellent companion. Are you all well?"

"My sisters and I are. And my parents," said Elizabeth.

Wickham waited, as if he expected her to continue.

"Though the months since Lydia left Brighton have given us some pain," added Jane.

In this way, Wickham was made to know that the topic was a tender one. He, however, was discerning enough to understand immediately and said something consoling before straightaway changing the subject. He told them of his own life, his promotion to Lieutenant, his adventures in Sussex. "Though I was only here a short time, I cannot tell you how I have missed Hertfordshire,” he continued. “The joys of the sea side really are nothing to those of the country. I have the fondest memories of dancing there at your aunt's, just a year ago."

The occasion was recalled to Elizabeth's mind as well; and it pained her to feel that a sequel to it would have been the most welcome way to spend the evening. But she was not so brave, nor so shameless, as to invite Lt. Wickham into her Aunt's home as Lydia had once done.

Instead, she told him about the upcoming public assembly.

"An assembly you say?"

"I can think of no reason why you could not attend. Everyone in town would be ready to welcome you.”

"That is," Jane added, "if your business does not take you from us before that day."

"No indeed!" he answered, already excited. “I think that it will not. What luck, a ball, planned at my every convenience. Now there is a reason to like this little hamlet even more."

Elizabeth grinned. It was a different ball, and a year late besides, but perhaps she might finally have her dinner dance with the young lieutenant.

"Forgive us sir," Jane interrupted, "but we are due at our Aunt's and, as you see, we have arrived."

Elizabeth had herself hardly noticed, but they were in real danger of passing the place by before Jane had spoken. Wickham accepted Jane's apology, and Elizabeth valediction, and bowed his tall frame generously to each lady. 

"I shall not keep you," he agreed. "But I wish you both happiness and health until we meet again."


	3. Chapter 3

The unlooked for return of Lt. George Wickham completely altered Elizabeth's anticipation of the autumn public assembly. Until that afternoon she had dismissed the event as a meaningless diversion; it was hardly worth her effort to attend, except for the worse alternative of remaining home. But now she thought of her Aunt Gardiner and scolded herself. She resolved to put extra effort into behaving the way that her Aunt and Uncle would have liked—with cheerfulness and attention to those around her. 

The night of the ball it was generally agreed that the Bennet sisters looked uncommonly pretty. These compliments were extended even to Miss Mary Bennet, who was sometimes discounted. Now whether this was caused by a new bloom, a new dowry, or new ribbons, no one would say. But all five sisters found themselves quickly propositioned for the opening dance, though it was ladies who far outnumbered the gentlemen.

Upon circling the ballroom, Elizabeth found herself in a familiar situation—she was quite unable to locate Lt. Wickham. Her sisters had scattered immediately and though the room was full, she felt suddenly very much alone. "I am on my own," Elizabeth thought, wishing that her dearest friend Charlotte were present. 

But it was while she was pining that Lt. Wickham found her instead.

“Dearest Miss Elizabeth," he said as he approached her from the side. He looked a little doubtful when he recognized the melancholy in her face. ”Are you well?"

Elizabeth spun, surprised, and returned his greeting. "I am! And I am glad to see you have come sir. I thought you were not here," she said as a way of explaining her demeanor.

"I have only arrived at this moment, but I am afraid my tardiness will prevent my having the first dance," he surmised and she confirmed. “Then I hope that you will grant me another this evening. Perhaps your second is still available?"

It was, and Elizabeth was quick to bestow it.

While they were exchanging pleasantries, Lydia Bennet came bounding out of the crowd. She turned a wicked scowl on her sister and accused loudly. "He did come! Oh, you tricked me! You told me that you did not think Mr. Wickham would come to our dance!—that he would be kept away again!"

Lydia exaggerated Elizabeth’s words, but only just. Elizabeth had suggested those things to both Lydia and her mother, in the hopes that they would think little and speak less about the man in the hours leading up to the assembly.

Wickham smiled, but looked pointedly at Elizabeth. "You have so little faith in me!” he scolded. "Actually, that is the third time you have reminded me of my negligence last year when I missed the Netherfield ball. I am beginning to think that I shall never live it down in your eyes."

Elizabeth's cheeks touched with pink. "Forgive me sir. I did not mean to be so rude."

"No, you must forgive me for disappointing you. For my part, it is only nice to know that I am wanted." Then he turned to give the youngest Bennet sister the attention she desired. "Miss Lydia, you must allow me to tell you how Brighton has missed you. It has not been at all the same since you left."

"Yes, it is a pity that I could not return. But I am certain that Mrs. Forester will have told you about our misfortune."

"She did," he answered. "And I was very troubled to hear it. Though we only met briefly, your Aunt and Uncle Gardiner were by every measure excellent people."

"And to think, before this year I should have imagined I would do anything to have a proper dowry."

Then, as if the mention of a dowry were the gonging of a loud bell, Mrs. Bennett emerged from the crowd. She fixed her eyes first on each daughter in turn, and then—

“Lt. Wickham!” She hurried closer, bowed politely to the young man, then began taking liberties with his person. She started with hands at his shoulders, testing the material of his coat. “I am quite in awe of the gold lieutenant’s braids! I hope that my daughters have told you how smart you look in that uniform. And what a quick rise you have made!”

“Ma’am,” he said in greeting, indulging her with a smile and a brief report on his uniform.

“What a joke Lizzy has had at our expense,” Mrs. Bennet complained to Wickham as she petted him, “telling us all that you would not be here tonight.”

“It was not a joke,” interrupted Lydia. “She did it on purpose to have the upper hand. She’s secured him for a dance already, while I have not!”

If Elizabeth could have given up a full week out of her life in order to never have gone through this moment, she would have chosen it. She was mortified. Could Lydia not have held her tongue? Could their mother not have restrained herself? Could neither of them have spared her even a little these five minutes?

Wickham, for his part, had finally begun to look overwhelmed. But when he at last responded it was to rescue Elizabeth.

“Ma’am,” he said to Mrs. Bennet, “please do not blame your daughter when the fault is mine. I thought that I might be called back to Brighton early, and I warned her as much.”

“Well thank goodness you’ve been saved that fate!” Mrs. Bennet made it sound as if the alternative were much worse than a night without a dance.

Lydia would not be ignored any longer. “I have but one spot remaining on my card,” she warned the gentleman, while stepping between him and Elizabeth. 

He laughed a little and said, “Forgive my delay. I had counted a dance with you tonight as almost a forgone conclusion. When may I have the honor?"

Afraid of further humiliation, Elizabeth tried to excuse herself and her family, saying that Lt. Wickham must want to find other friends. But she was frustrated by the approach of Sir William Lucas. With his broad body as a barrier, he regathered their circle, his eyes twinkling while he waited for the full attention of the small party. Elizabeth gave it over hesitantly, afraid to find out what he would say. 

“Have you spoken with your eldest daughter recently?” Sir William asked Mrs. Bennet. He smiled. “I have it on great authority that there is to be a surprise guest this evening, who will be of particular interest to your family.”

Elizabeth stole a quick look at Wickham and was in time to see his rather bewildered expression. 

Sir William, though, did not understand the confusion or the irony in this. Instead, he leaned in and with a loud whisper said, “the surprise guest is Mr. Bingley."

Surprise indeed! Elizabeth felt the shock and wore it upon her face. After nearly a year absent, could Mr. Bingley have returned to Hertfordshire? Was he even still letting Netherfield Park? Was that possible?

"Has his family come with him?" Wickham asked. Elizabeth found herself hoping not.

Sir William did not know, but saw his own duty clearly. “Now, we must find Miss Jane Bennet! She must be told the good news!” 

It was as if he had reminded his listeners they were to race. Mrs. Bennet peeled away immediately.

“I’ll go!” said Lydia, hopping to her toes to see the room from a better vantage.

“Please let me find Jane!” Elizabeth begged them all. Lydia was not the person to share delicate news of this type; but neither was their mother, their father, Sir Lucas, nor most of the other gentlepersons currently assembled within the building, Elizabeth thought with anxiety.

"It promises to be an exciting evening, don't you agree?" was the last thing Elizabeth heard from Sir William. 

“I shall find you later,” Wickham promised, with a hand on her shoulder as she left. 

To move about the room was dreadfully difficult going, as it was nearly time for the first dance and the hall had grown packed with people. Struggling to advance through the crowd, Elizabeth nearly leaped with joy when she at last caught sight of Jane's blond hair. Her sister looked happy and contented talking with a neighbor; and with no sign of her mother or younger sisters, Elizabeth had arrived in time. 

"I fear that I am causing a great deal of disappointment tonight," Elizabeth said, breaking in between Jane and her first dance partner, "but could you forgive me sir? I must have my sister's ear a moment."

The gentleman politely agreed. He would return for Jane shortly.

"Whatever is the matter?" Jane whispered when he had gone.

"Do not fear, it is nothing so very bad,” Elizabeth said, touching her sister’s arm. “Only, I have had a rumor about someone."

"Mr. Bingley?"

"You know?" Elizabeth asked, astonished.

"How do you do, Miss Bennet? Miss Elizabeth?"

***

Despite her preparation, Elizabeth performed much worse than Jane at the sudden appearance of Mr. Charles Bingley. Miss Bennet spoke, smiled, and agreed to dance, all without losing her graceful composure. Her appearance was completely untroubled by the young man's presence. 

When Mr. Bingley had gone, Elizabeth fell back the wall behind her for support. "Oh!" she gasped, "my brave Jane! How well you did!"

"No, it was nothing so great—though I am very glad that it is finished. I suppose it was inevitable that we would meet again. But listen," she said, noticing the music, "the dance is beginning. We must hurry to our partners."

Jane was gone in a flash, though it took Elizabeth another moment to lift herself from the wall. 

Elizabeth went to her first partner, but remained attentive to her older sister during that and the following dances. Though tender of heart, Jane displayed only her great sense and steady nerves. Elizabeth admired her conduct. Jane appeared a little reserved at first, but was otherwise a model of serenity. As the night progressed, Elizabeth began to think that there was even a bit of pleasure detectable in her sister's countenance.

Very late that night, after dinner and wine had relaxed them all, Lt. Wickham noted, "You watch your sister a great deal this evening." It was the final dance of the evening, and Elizabeth was standing up for the second time with Lt. Wickham. Jane was not presently dancing, but stood at the edge of the room, talking with Mr. Bingley.

"I am guilty as you say," Elizabeth admitted to him. "She looks happy, does she not?"

"Yes. She smiles a great deal," said Wickham. "But—have you no concern for her further happiness?"

"Sir?"

"It is only that I cannot stand to see an innocent lady suffer," he said, "and you must remember that Bingley has caused her pain in the past."

Elizabeth turned back to her sister and watched. Finally, she shook her head. “Why would he repeat it? Despite what happened, I do not think that Mr. Bingley hurt her purposefully. It is not in his character."

"Mr. Bingley is by all outward measures a pleasing man," Lt. Wickham acknowledged, "but not everyone wears their true hearts in the open as you do, Miss Elizabeth. I hesitate to suggest it, but does it not seem odd that he should return to you so soon after the news of your inheritance spread?"

Elizabeth fumbled for the words to respond to Wickham's accusations. She was a little embarrassed he thought her true heart so easily understood. But moreover, though it hurt her to think on the subject, certainly there would be gossip about their inheritance circulating amongst those who knew her family. It had been frequently bemoaned, and occasionally triumphed, that such pretty girls as the Bennet sisters should have so little fortune. And the reversal of those fortunes, though the death of their mother's near relations, was no common news. 

"I do not believe Bingley is one to think of such things."

"We are both aware, however, that those who influence him are."

"I will watch the man closely," Elizabeth resolved, "but you cannot make me think ill of him on so little evidence."

"No," Wickham laughed at her, "not when you are so eager to like him." 

Elizabeth did keep her word, and was vigilant for signs of weakness in her sister's former beau. And there were ample opportunities to watch him, for Mr. Bingley was immediately again a fixture at Longbourn. Whenever she could interrupt his time with Jane, Elizabeth spoke to Bingley of his future plans and his past endeavors. And every time, Elizabeth found the man to be guileless in his answers: He reported that he had much rather stay in Hertfordshire this winter than go back to town; he explained that he had kept busy enough this last year, but his employments were not so pleasurable as they were now; he acknowledged that he rather liked London, and hoped if any of the Bennets traveled there someday, that he could introduce them to his friends.

Lt. Wickham also found reason to visit Meryton and Longbourn frequently that winter. Whenever chance might have both men together for dinner or for games, Wickham would quietly make Elizabeth aware when he saw or heard something he thought telling. She heeded him; but her own observations and Jane's words and manners allowed Elizabeth to grow increasingly satisfied with the character of Mr. Bingley and his courtship of Miss Bennet.


	4. Chapter 4

At first, Jane tried to claim an indifference towards Mr. Bingley and his renewed interest. But as the Autumn season rolled on, she could no longer pretend.

"Whether it will come to anything like my mother hopes, I am unsure. But my opinion of him is much as it ever was," Jane admitted to her sister, when they spoke, late one night before bed. "However, I find I am much more optimistic in your case.

"In my case? That is a surprise," protested Elizabeth.

"Lt. Wickham's regard for you is readily apparent," Jane prodded. "Surely you have seen."

Elizabeth had seen. And she was not ignoring it, precisely. She very much wanted to fall in love one day and was prepared to do so now if the gentleman was worthy. It was only that she did not want the match to draw comments before she was ready.

"Besides," Jane continued, "I saw the way that you smiled when you spoke with him yesterday. You looked happy."

Elizabeth had been happy yesterday when she was talking with Lt. Wickham. Very happy. They had been sharing stories of their childhoods and laughing at each other's exploits. Afterwards, he had told her about his plans for career advancement and asked her opinions on military characters familiar to them both. He was a welcome change in her life, which for the past year had been dominated by an uncomfortable feeling of lack. She missed her Aunt, with her encouraging words and good advice. She missed her dearest friend Charlotte, who now lived so far off in the county of Kent. Until Wickham's return, Elizabeth had felt stymied, with nowhere to go, no air to breathe, and no prospects for change.

"I recalled yesterday, a conversation that I once had with our Aunt Gardiner," Elizabeth told Jane. "She warned me against marrying imprudently, without consideration toward money. She had been speaking about Wickham."

"Then he has acted prudently in waiting until now to let his attention grow serious," said Jane. Then she hastily added, "that is, of course, if you will accept him."

"I have rejected two offers," Elizabeth said, remembering both Mr. Collins' and Mr. Darcy's disastrous attempts. "I do not think I should wager another."

Jane stood very still. "You love him then?"

Lt. George Wickham was handsome, attentive, clever, and determined; and Elizabeth anticipated their every meeting with pleasure. 

"Yes, I suppose that I do."

***

The foul weather of February prevented much society from gathering in the little villages and towns in the south of Hertfordshire. During a period of nearly three weeks, the country went without a single dry day. The Bennet sisters were thereby prevented from venturing out for either social calls or shopping. Even the intrepid Miss Elizabeth could not step outdoors when such a cold and heavy rain fell upon the land.

This would have been unbearable, were Longbourn not still blessed with a pair of truly committed guests.

"I trust that we will not be dining alone, so I have instructed Hill to set up something nice," Mrs. Bennet told her daughter. "She complained a little, since the butcher delayed his delivery. But the rain at least has lightened. And they have come in worser weather."

"Mr. Bingley is already arrived," said Elizabeth, extrapolating about whom her mother was referring. Elizabeth was having her hair done up, while nearby Kitty and Lydia, in deshabille, fussed over a hat they were pulling apart. "And because George must return to Brighton tomorrow, I can promise that we will not be left wanting him."

Mrs. Bennet started forward. "You say Mr. Bingley is already here? Vexing girl. Why did you not tell me. Is Jane with him?"

"Yes, she was much forwarder along than I."

"Well hurry down and see that tea is brought in. And do not worry dear, you look very nice. Though your hair is not blond, Jenny has made it very pretty today." 

There was little left to finish in Elizabeth's toilette, even without her mother's encouragement, so in a few minutes Elizabeth descended to the front room, to join Jane and Bingley. The happy couple were seated together on a couch near the fire. Mr. Bingley was speaking very softly to the elder Bennet sister, but rose immediately when Elizabeth entered. She had only just bowed when the maid announce Lt. Wickham. 

"It is a pleasure to meet you here sir," said Mr. Bingley to Lt. Wickham. He reached out his hand to shake. "I had been about to offer my congratulations to Miss Elizabeth, so instead I will extend it to you both."

"You are all kindness, Mr. Bingley," said Wickham. "Though I believe I should be thanking you. Would I have dared to tempt Miss Elizabeth away from home, were her dear sister not already marrying? The answer is yes, I would have dared it. But I am less certain I would have received the desired response."

"You make me sound fickle," Elizabeth complained. "Or irresolute."

"Or desperate? Or sensible, maybe," Wickham suggested, taking Elizabeth’s hand. "They are often easily confused."

"Well, I can only hope that your engagement gives you as much happiness as my own," said Bingley.

"One ought not compare," Wickham scolded, "but I think I can safely claim to be your equal. Now, I know that you and Miss Bennet talked of marrying in six weeks time. I hope that it would not be an imposition if Elizabeth and I were to plan for the same day."

Elizabeth smiled. She had mentioned to Wickham earlier that she hoped to marry by the side of her closest sister, but at the time, he had worried aloud that he would not be able to arrange it so quickly with his superiors. If he was asking now, it meant he had already spoken with the commander. 

It was also exactly what Jane wanted and she said as much.

"No, you cannot thank me, Jane," said Elizabeth. "Why, think of how much trouble I am to be saved, if you do all of the planning. I can simply wake the morning of, put on my best dress, and stroll down to the church."

"I'm afraid you are thinking of a summer wedding," said Bingley.

"Indeed!" Wickham took up the complaint. "Does it do nothing but rain in this country? I have not seen my beloved in the clear light of the sun in months!"

He had a much harder time of it than the rest of the them, riding to and from Brighton so often. He was wet to the skin, and blue of lip, when he last arrived in town. 

"If only it would clear for you tomorrow," Elizabeth hoped. She had a parcel packed in the front hall with baked treats ready to fortify him on his ride if it did not. "But then, I do not like to see you travel so often. How much better it would be if you could stay here until I could go back with you."

"We must be on the road soon ourselves,” Jane reminded her sister, "so you will not be here much anyway." The trip she referred to was a bitter-sweet one. Wedding shopping in London must be an agreeable activity, but they had not been back to town since the losses of the past spring.

"I must go to town myself," said Bingley. "I have been happy to put off my business, but there are men in town who I can deny no longer."

"Like Mr. Darcy," said Wickham.

Mr. Bingley stopped. Mr. Darcy was still his closest friend, but there was an animosity between that gentleman and Mr. Bingley's future brother-in-law that was well known, if not well understood. 

Finally, and not quite managing his usual jovial tone, Bingley replied, "No, I believe that Darcy is in Derbyshire."

Elizabeth was taken aback. That man had never come up in conversation before, not since Wickham's return. She decided, in that moment, that she must speak with Jane to assure that Mr. Darcy would not be attending the wedding. And Miss Darcy also. One of Bingley’s sisters might contrive to have her around in an act of spite. That could not be borne.

However ungenerous it was, Elizabeth wished also that Mr. Bingley's sisters could be excluded. Their presence was one unpleasant concession that Elizabeth must make to marry along side Jane. Caroline Bingley, along with Mr. and Mrs. Hurst had been living in Bingley's town house since their removal from Netherfield the year previous. If the Bennets were to visit London, they must be in their company very soon.

"I look forward to visiting the Gracechurch house one more time before it is sold," Jane ventured.

"You say that your Uncle's home has not yet been sold?”

"No, not yet. There was some trouble with the deeds that has only just been worked out," said Elizabeth, though she was secretly happy at the delay. The little house and all its belongings were very dear to her.

"But the business has?"

"Yes. That could not wait."

***

It was late that evening before Bingley and Wickham were finally persuaded to leave their beloveds. Just before departing, Lt. Wickham caught Elizabeth’s hand.

"I am afraid I am not myself today,” he apologized. “Leaving you has put me in a foul mood."

He looked tired and she dreaded the next day's ride for him.

"I am flattered that you will miss me,” Elizabeth demurred,” but I do not like it otherwise. Is there no way that you might join us in London? Otherwise these six weeks will seem very long."

“If it were not for Colonel Foster and his damned stinginess, I would be here every moment."

“Oh, wait a moment. I’ve something else for you take back to Brighton.” She turned to the nearby table where she had left a letter. “Only, don’t be too excited, it is but a letter for Mrs. Forester. I harassed Lydia this week until she sat down and wrote it out. It does you no good with Col. Forester if Mrs. Forester is out of spirits with her good friend and your soon to be close relation.”

Wickham smiled. “Quite right. And that gives me a good excuse to visit the Col. and his wife socially, which I need to make my pitch.” 

Elizabeth looked at him, curious.

"Sometime soon I must update you about my new plan for advancement. There is another Colonel in Brighton who will be leaving soon to take an assignment in the north. I am going to persuade him to request me as his personal secretary, but I need Col. Foster’s recommendation first.”

"Could you tell me a little about it now?” Elizabeth asked, wishing they had more time. She was very interested. “What part of the North?”

"If Col. Wedgewood will but look at my merit, rather than my years served, I am convinced that he will take me. The Colonel has a reputation for helping worthwhile young men find promotions, and his last secretary has been advanced out from under him. It would be a tremendous opportunity, in a field that has little enough of it.

Besides, Brighton is very dull and I am ready for my next task."

Elizabeth laughed. "A year by the sea with the King's Army and it is already too dull for you? It is a good thing that you were never made a parson."

"Duties are dull, but people never. A little flock to guide would be much more to my liking.”

With a cocky half smile he locked his gaze upon her. She blushed a little when his eyes did not move on.

"What?" she challenged.

"I am imagining you as a parson's wife," he revealed, appearing to enjoy the idea. Suddenly then he shrugged and turned away. "It is a fetching image, but I do not think that you could pull it off."

"The cheek!" she cried.

In private then, Wickham ducked to kiss Elizabeth goodnight. And after wishing her every happiness in her upcoming trip to London, he rode away hard into the wet winter night.


	5. Chapter 5

It took a full three weeks before Jane and Elizabeth could manage to plan a journey to London. Both Mr. and Mrs. Bennet acknowledged the necessity of it, but were slow to allow for the arrangements. Originally, it was thought that the ladies might travel with Mr. Bingley when he returned to town. But eventually the man admitted that he could wait no longer and must go ahead of them. Still, he very considerately left his carriage behind at their disposal, taking his road horse instead. He would meet them in town. 

Still they waited. Finally, to facilitate brevity, and at Elizabeth’s insistence, it was decided that only the two eldest Bennet daughters and Mrs. Bennet would make the trip. Kitty cried a great deal when she was told the news. She let it be known that it was a terrible burden to be so often forgotten from these pleasantries. Would they at least remember her and her old, tired green dress that she must wear to the wedding? Something to smarten the look would be appreciated.

Mrs. Bennet, contradicting Jane, would promise nothing. It was all very overwhelming and Kitty only made it worse with her fussing! In truth, there was a great deal to be done. The ladies were required back at Longbourn in under a fortnight and at this late hour, no moment could be wasted. Foremost, the Miss Bennets both must have new wedding clothes ordered and sewn as quickly as possible. For setting up their houses, Jane felt that Mr. Bingley was already well supplied in the basics. She would buy a few nicer items as was appropriate to celebrate becoming mistress of Netherfield. Elizabeth fell on just the opposite side; Wickham had lived until this time in bachelor housing. Elizabeth would purchase nothing fancy, only what was needed to equip a modest household. Together, the sisters would need to visit every sort of establishment.

And no matter what else was to be accomplished, their first appointment upon entering London must be a social one. Once their plans were set, Miss Caroline Bingley, Mr. Bingley's younger sister, was very prompt in extending an invitation to dine and the Bennets were equally prompt in accepting. Jane, Elizabeth, and Mrs. Bennet, would visit the new Bingley townhouse, Ennismore, for a small dinner party the very evening of their arrival.

There was hardly enough time between entering London in the morning and the hour when they were expected for dinner owing to the amount of effort needed to reopen the house on Gracechurch street. The Bennets had hired a working woman for the seven days they would be in town, but she had come late. Even then she was confused by the tasks asked of her and Elizabeth only hoped that there would be clean beds waiting for them when this night was finally at an end. 

The hurry and commotion of it left Elizabeth feeling flustered and rather more in dread of the evening than she wished. Her mother was in a state also.

"Welcome Miss Bennet, Mrs. Bennet, Miss Elizabeth," Miss Bingley greeted each of them in turn when the door to Ennismore opened. She bowed to Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth, but Jane she kissed on the cheek. "Our little party is complete now that you are here. Please come and allow me to introduce you to all our friends." 

Miss Bingley gestured into the lounge, which was somewhat more crowded with strange gentlemen and ladies than Elizabeth had anticipated.

Jane was immediately claimed by Mr. Bingley, who did not let her go again for the entirety of the evening. Elizabeth fell dutifully in rear as Miss Bingley paraded her and her mother around the room, making introductions. Mrs. May, the pretty wife of one of Bingley's friends from Cambridge, was particularly enthusiastic in her greeting. She told Jane that she had specially requested to be seated next to her at dinner. 

Miss Bingley scolded her, saying that she had made no promises and that Mrs. May must not complain no matter where she was seated. But they were obviously well known to each other and their tone seemed friendly enough, while all this was being said.

Elizabeth was a little surprised how elegantly Miss Bingley was dressed. She was far more chic than anyone else in the room, in a dress that looked Perisian. In fact, aside Mr. and Mrs. May, Elizabeth wondered if this was the sort of dinner party that Miss Bingley had hoped to put together. From the unsophisticated look of a few of the guests, she rather suspected that it was not. But Miss Bingley, of course, would shew no weakness. She introduced everyone as if they were paragons of London society.

Mr. Bingley's other sister, Mrs. Hurst, was also in attendance, and took it upon herself to entertain Elizabeth and Mrs. Bennet in conversation until dinner was served. By that time, Elizabeth had begun to question if she had misjudged Miss Bingley's guests. In speaking and listening, she found that this was a surprisingly cultured group of people, that included several artists, an author, and even a stage actor. Miss Bingley, of course, would want titles and wealth for friends, but perhaps in the off season she made do with "interesting people" instead. But rather than being dismissive of the motley group, Miss Bingley was clearly at pains to seem at ease with them. Mr. Bingley too, was familiar and friendly with the people in the room. This was not the first time they had all come together. 

It was only Mr. Hurst, who looked bored, and Mrs. Bennet, who was too nervous to speak with sense, who failed to settle in.

As hostess, Miss Bingley must speak a little with Elizabeth.

"We will live in Brighton," answered Elizabeth when queried about her future plans. "That is where the militia is quartered, though Wickham anticipates a new posting before long."

"I suppose," said Miss Bingley, "that you hope to take a house soon. That way you will not be expected to move every time your Lt. Wickham is restationed."

"And live all alone?" asked Mrs. Bennet. "So far from home?"

"It needn't be too far, if she does not wish. Perhaps Miss Eliza would prefer a house in Meryton—near her Uncle's law office."

Elizabeth had no intention of living quite so close to Longbourn, but only said that it would be very hard to be separated so long from one's husband.

"You will enjoy Brighton, I am sure, " Mr. Bingley said. He looked at his sister and added, “we have friends who are regular visitors there.”

"Have you been there previously?" Mrs. Hurst asked Elizabeth.

She had not.

"It must be a bit like London is now—in the off season I mean,” said Miss Bingley. "With the intimacy of a small village and the amenities of a large city. I know that is one of my favorite times here." 

"But you will enjoy it in the high season also," Bingley promised. "There will always be new company. Why, you may even see the Prince Regent."

"If I do happen to see him, I will stay far away," Elizabeth said. "I trust it is no difficult feat to spot him from a distance—with the amount of money he spends on clothes."

"Elizabeth, how can you be so tiresome? You would run and hide, when you might be introduced to the Prince?" Mrs. Bennet asked, loudly aghast. 

This forced Elizabeth to explain her little joke, while trying not to sound like a bore.

***

In six days time all London shopping by necessity came to an end, and the Bennet ladies took stock of what they had accomplished. It amounted to everything needed, “but still left so much you must do without,” Mrs. Bennet lamented, as if she were not largely to blame for their truncated shopping time, and Elizabeth’s complete lack of new bed linens. Still, with their purchases being shipped, Elizabeth and Jane could return to Hertfordshire with relatively clear minds and be ready on their wedding day, so long as the wedding clothes themselves were not much delayed. 

Throughout the week, the Bennets had been entertained and dined regularly at the Bingley townhouse. Regrettably, Elizabeth found that she and Caroline got along no better during this interval than they had the previous year. Miss Bingley was arrogant and pretentious. She seemed to choose what to discuss with an eye at exposing Mrs. Bennet and her country manners. This left Mrs. Bennet flustered and Elizabeth ill tempered and on edge. Jane only stood there and tried not to seem alarmed.

When their last evening in London came, and the Bennets were invited by the Bingleys again, Elizabeth decided she had suffered enough. Though she hated to abandon her dearest sister, the idea of another evening with that family was intolerable. Elizabeth pled fatigue, a headache, and any other ailment that might excuse her for the night, without calling undo attention.

And so, Miss Bennet and Mrs. Bennet went out, leaving Elizabeth behind.

When she had first arrived a week earlier at the Gracechurch street house, Elizabeth found that she must mourn again for her aunt, uncle, and cousin. A wave of fresh grief hit her when she viewed the front door, the rooms, the furniture, and the remaining objects. Despite this, the Gardiners had made the residence so comfortable, filed it with so much joy, that Elizabeth had by now found herself at ease again.

The Gardiners had a small library of books, some which Elizabeth was due to take possession of imminently. Tonight, she looked them over; but rather than read, she decided instead that she would take the opportunity to compose a letter. Charlotte Collins’ most recent letter had arrived before they left Hertfordshire, but this was Elizabeth's first free moment in which to reply. Elizabeth thought that she might invite Charlotte to visit her in Brighton, if it could be arranged so that Mr. Collins would kept in Kent. But, of course, that invitation would have to be delayed some months until she had set up a home and made the appropriate arrangements. 

_ Dear Charlotte, _

_ I rely upon your boundless forgiveness, once again, for having kept you waiting for my reply. You said to me once that women do themselves a disservice by using their husbands as excuses for their own mismanagement of time; so I will not even think of blaming the upcoming wedding, and all the work I must do to prepare, and the innumerable distractions of furnishing a household, for my lack of proper manners to you... _

Having finished her letter, Elizabeth was at a loss for what to do and began to feel herself a bit drowsy. "I suppose I might sleep," she thought aloud, but made no move to do so. Instead, she remained where she sat, reflecting on all the changes to her life she could soon expect. She found it easy to get swept away in dreaming about the implications of her recent decisions. They were multitudinous. Finally, she decided, 'I really must find some distraction if I am to get any peace'. This resolution made her alert enough to become aware of a hired carriage sitting in front of the house. This was not immediately remarkable, but if it carried Jane and Mrs. Bennet, as she first supposed, then why did they not come inside?

'Perhaps it is someone searching for an address or waiting for a neighbor,' Elizabeth reasoned. 

Miss Elizabeth Bennet, however, possessed a natural curiosity that would not be put aside on so flimsy of a conclusion. That being so, she decided to peak from a window on the lower level to find if there was anything to see. 

The downstairs parlor was dark, and, because it had been sitting empty, very cold. Turning the curtains to the side, Elizabeth could see nothing of the least interest through the window. In fact, the carriage which she had come down to investigate appeared empty. 

‘How disappointing’ she thought in exaggerated petulance. ‘If the city refuses to entertain me, I shall have to retire.'

It was quite a surprise to Elizabeth when, at only that moment, there was a knock on the front door. Despite her earlier bravado, Elizabeth was tempted to ignore it and retreat back to her warm parlor. The temporary maid had gone and the alternative was she must answer the door herself. 'But it might be important,' she reasoned. 'And no one need know who I am.'

"Good evening," she said as she opened the door. The anonymity she had counted upon lasted only as long as her greeting. The gentleman in front of her bowed. 

"Miss Elizabeth. Thank heavens you are here, for I must speak with you."

Elizabeth moved to the side to allow Mr. Darcy to enter the dark room. Though he immediately removed his hat, he still looked very tall and formidable. And because he was lit only incidentally, he also looked very grave.

"Well sir, do not be silent. What is the matter?" Then, suddenly suspicious at his stillness, "I suppose you would not come here unless it was of great importance."

"Miss Bennet," he started slowly, "I do not know how to begin, except to say that surely you could not be so blind!" 

"What?!" she cried in confusion.

"Please do not mistake me," he pled, "This is no repeat of my last spring's proposal. Indeed, I have nothing to gain by coming here tonight—“

"Then why are you here?"

“—Except," he continued, "that I can better repent of the pain my words will cause now, than of the greater immorality of my keeping quiet. It has come to my attention, some weeks ago I must admit, of your having become engaged to Lt. George Wickham. I feel compelled to warn you that he is unfit to be your husband."

"Unfit to be my husband?"

"Unfit to be anyone's husband, if I were to speak truly. I must apologize for wasting so much time in telling you, but I thought that you would see it for yourself and realize what he was—Miss Bennet, I have known Wickham from my youth and the man is a cad."

"Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth interrupted.

“I understand from your own words what stories Wickham has told you about me, but he is spreading falsehood. When Wickham left Pemberley, he himself turned down the living my father promised and was given it's full value instead."

"That is enough!"

“He would not have such power if others did not let him. He broke Georgiana’s heart! Do not let him do the same to you.”

"Get out!" Elizabeth glowed with a great fury that was visible even in the dark space. "If I were a man we would be fighting already. But as it is, I will scream if you do not go. I will scream until a neighbor comes, and if you ever return I will scream again!"

Mr. Darcy looked at her in what must have been terror. "Please" he begged, "perhaps I have not spoken in the best manner, but this is truth without design."

"Enough!" she said, her body rising in anger. 

The gentleman backed away, shaking his head. He stopped to make a quick bow, and then immediately fled out the door and into the chill night.

As soon as he had gone, Elizabeth began to shake. Fearing she might end up there anyway, she allowed herself to slip down to the cold floor. Oh why had he come here? Elizabeth thought that she had been finished with Mr. Darcy at Hunsford. He left the parsonage that day after proposing, without looking back, and she had not suffered his presence again until this night, almost 18 months later!

'I cannot tell George about this,' she decided immediately.

Elizabeth's mother and sister might have found her in this same attitude, collapsed at the bottom of the staircase, an hour later, had she not suddenly found the presence of mind to run upstairs when she heard their carriage arrive.

"I cannot see where I will find the energy to travel tomorrow." Mrs. Bennet was saying as she arrived in the parlor. She took off her coat and and dropped it on a chair. "I will be quite useless for some days afterwards, I'm certain. But it was a delightful evening. Mr. Bingley is a very good man. What a great blessing he will be to all of us."

"How was your night Lizzy?" Jane asked. "I'm glad you've kept the room warm. We were very chilly on our way home."

Elizabeth replied only in the most cursory fashion.

"Dear sister," Jane said, coming to her side, "I'm afraid that you are not feeling better."

"Good heavens child! You are freezing cold!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed after touching her Elizabeth's cheek. "I think that you are actually sick." 

Mrs. Bennet's guilt over her daughter shew on her face. Evidently, when leaving for the evening, she had believed that Elizabeth was either fabricating or greatly exaggerating her ailments. The irony of this was not lost upon Elizabeth. 

Suddenly Elizabeth’s face flushed and she was very angry again at Mr. Darcy. ‘What can he care of my well being? He has ruined my last memories of my dearest uncle and aunt’s house!’

Her mother sent her immediately to bed, worried that a sickness might delay the wedding.


	6. Chapter 6

Three Years Later—

The former Miss Jane Bennet was very pleased, both with herself and with all in her realm. It was early afternoon and already Jane had managed an uncommonly productive day, aided in large by a new nurserymaid, who she was relieved to find competent, quite, and easy tempered. Mrs. Bingley was, as a rule, a satisfied person. With rare exception, she found that she was able to make her way through life without much to distress or confound. Her marriage to Charles Bingley had been a good match that gratified her. Her daughter Frances, now in her third year, played and smiled far more than she cried. And though Jane missed the members of her family who she saw infrequently, her experience, at present, was one of joy in reconciliation, rather than a real pain in separation. If Jane had taken the time to reflect, she would have recognized that her greatest challenges these past three years had all been to do with that former Bingley family nursemaid who had recently gone; and now that the difficult severance was complete, Jane felt as light and as free as her charmed life warranted.

Since the Bingley’s return from London six months earlier, Netherfield Park had been busy, with a happy parade of friends and relations in residence. One frequent visitor, a Mr. Tam, was an Irishman recently returned from the Indies, who in early September had established an easy report with the last unmarried Miss Bennet. Though he was only due to pass through the county, he had extended and delayed his departure by nearly two months. Kitty would not say so, but Jane assumed that when the gentleman returned again from traveling abroad, he would make the girl an offer. 

Which prompted Jane to think about taking Kitty to London this year. They might not have another season to try for. 

Jane peaked in on Frances and Miss Jenny in the nursery. Frances was asleep on her rug and Miss Jenny, busy darning in the sunny corner by the window. Jane motioned silently that she needed nothing, and quietly closed the door as she left. Summer was coming and the packing must begin in earnest now that the house was finally without guests. This morning, Miss Jenny had helped Jane sort through the child’s clothing, putting aside anything that was outgrown or needed mending. 

It was not hesitation, only a lack of time to plan why Jane had not already made arrangements for London with her younger sister. Each successive marriage had whisked another Miss Bennet away from Hertfordshire and out into the world. When Mr. Tam came back, Kitty would be no different, and Jane alone would remain in her parent’s county.

Jane saw her duty in this opportunity. Unless, on the other hand, Kitty wanted to spend her last unmarried summer at home at Longbourn. Or perhaps she would rather go Portsmouth with Lydia? Capt. Tomlin was due to ship out again this month and the two sisters were very close. Jane would feel neither surprised nor hurt if Lydia were to extend an invitation and Kitty accept it.

Restless, Jane thought she might begin pulling apart a bonnet. In a basket nearby she had ribbons of black, lilac, and emerald, with the feathers to match. Every year, the advent of the London season required that she look over her wardrobe, assess her needs, and make adjustments accordingly. This hat, which had long been one of her favorites, was only one of many details to put in order. Because Kitty had more natural taste for fashion, Jane hoped to gain her advice as to how to make it smarter. 

Jane found it hard to concentrate. There was so much still to do before leaving the county. She and Charles must dine each of the local families one more time. She wondered, was it better to host one larger party or several smaller? One party would have the thing done. But there were certainly times when it was easier to manage their acquaintances if they could be kept apart and heaped with individual attention. Larger parties meant guests must be trusted to converse without her guidance. 

Jane began to pace the room now, thinking through her list of neighbors. Perhaps one larger party and two smaller? Or even three smaller might be more favorable. She had received word that the former Miss King was back in Hertfordshire visiting her estate. Surely it was better to host her without Mrs. Stockton or Mrs. Elliot. Jane took up her calendar and shook her head. There were still a few dinners on Jane’s calendar; but she thought she could finish them and set these new plans all by next week, which would get them to London only slightly later than she had intended. It meant having to send a letter to Mrs. May with her apologies for missing her first dinner of the London season, but surely she would understand. Jane must write anyway to say how well she liked Miss Jenny. The new nursemaid had been hired at Mrs. May’s recommendation—

Jane found her desk with this task in mind, but before long left off and began instead to draft another letter, this one to her mother. They must all have lunch tomorrow here at Netherfield, so that Jane could speak with Kitty. She put a seal on the letter and set it aside to be mailed. 

Jane was recalled from this task by a cry and a loud commotion in the hall. 

She almost did not stand. The noise stopped. No one called her name. The staff took care of any troubles amongst themselves. But Jane felt distressed by the tone of the sound and went to investigate despite herself. 

Her breath escaped her. The producer of the noise was no servant, but instead Charles Bingley, who came charging into the hallway, his hands full with a burden. Jane was not immediately able to understand the picture, but from her husband’s expression she grasped that there was some sort of emergency. 

“Call the doctor!” he insisted to the footman. 

“Lie her down on the couch here,” Jane instructed, pointing to a place in her study where he could safely deposit the limp body of her younger sister Elizabeth. 

***

“I cannot account for it!” Bingley nervously paced circles around Jane and the doctor both. 

"It was very warm outside today," Jane said.

The warming light of the late Spring afternoon was starting to fade, but Bingley still wore a few remaining drops of perspiration on his brow that attested to the heat of the midday. 

"Yes, she is overheated," agreed Bingley. “But—you did not see her lying there on the grass. She could barely speak when I came upon her! If I had not stopped to water my horse and seen her shoes sticking out from the grass...”

It was too much for him and he paced another circle around the room before Jane caught his arm and quieted him. Still, he continued, “How did she come to be here? Did she answer you? And where is her husband?”

“She has not said much yet and I did not want to press her while the doctor was there,” Jane said as calmly as she could in her own heightened state.

Dr. Lawry, when he was done with his patient, reassured Jane and Bingley that there was nothing much wrong with Elizabeth that a day of rest and ample liquid could not solve. 

“But do not let her grow too cold as the evening temperature drops.” Then he laughed a little at Jane’s expense, “I did not expect to be back here again so soon, but sisters like to do everything together, even if the younger must overtop the elder, somehow. Mrs. Wickham can be up and about again after tomorrow and I suggest that you use that same time to rest yourself. A scare can be as bad as a fall or heat exhaustion for a pregnant woman.” 

Bingley looked distraught. He could make no sense of their conversation. 

“I had no chance to speak with him before we were interrupted,” Jane explained to the doctor.

“Then you will not have understood my earlier congratulations?” Dr. Lawry confirmed with Bingley.

Jane gently interrupted. “Dr. Lawry visited this morning and let me know that we are expecting another child. I’m sorry to tell you this way—but do not fret, I am much more worried on my sister's behalf, given her more advanced state of delicacy." 

This was too much news for an overwhelmed Bingley. “More advanced state of delicacy?” His voice was rough.

"Oh! but you must have seen," said Jane finally. "With her it is obvious.”

It had not been obvious to a panicked Bingley, who carried his sister-in-law, in a dead faint, half a mile on his horse to the house. “Well, what is your pregnant sister doing alone, on the ground by the river anyway!?”

***

As quietly as could be managed, Jane slipped open the door to Elizabeth's sick room. Jane smiled to find her already awake, awaiting her breakfast.

"If Lydia were here she would say I was fat as a cow," Elizabeth told her, as Jane struggled to help her up and into a chair. When properly upright, Elizabeth rested her hands atop of a substantial belly.

"I'm sure she would not," said Jane. "You are expecting. And you look beautiful."

"A perfect description of yourself," Elizabeth said with a satisfactory smile.

Jane made no reply. Instead, she opened the ties to the curtains and encouraged the morning light into the room.

"I canceled our dinner invitation tonight,” Jane said after looking out the window. “Mrs. Rice will be disappointed, but I told her that I was not feeling well.”

“I’m sorry for that,” Elizabeth smile dropped. “It is kind of you to take care of me. I know how much you and Bingley like to be amongst friends.”

“Charles would rather that you are safe and well. You scared him excessively. He says your shoes look as though you walked a very long distance— ” 

Elizabeth interrupted. “Bingley is a dear. And I suppose there will be plenty of time for friends when he gets to London.”

“To London?”

“Yes, the season is starting. You normally open your townhouse around this time, do you not?”

“Well yes, we planned to go the week after next—”

"That late? But you could leave earlier, surely.”

"Oh! I couldn't possibly leave now that you are here delivering." 

"Delivering," Elizabeth repeated the word as if to be certain of it. She turned her face away from her sister who had begun to set out the breakfast foods. Then she said, "I was actually hoping to conclude my pregnancy in London."

So incomprehensible were her sisters words that it took Jane a moment to make any response. But when she finally did, her eyes grew wide and the teapot rattled as she put it down. "Dr. Lawry would never allow such a thing. You are in your eighth month. Think of the danger to yourself and the child!"

"It is barely my seventh and the trip to London is but a couple hours. You know better than I, that no one could possibly deliver in that time." 

Jane continued her protest, saying, "Who would give birth in a city when they could do so in the country? Our parents would never allow it. I am certain that they would want you here, among family and friends, where you can be looked after."

“You haven’t told them I am here, have you?” Elizabeth hurried to ask. When Jane admitted that she had not found the time yet, Elizabeth added, more unequivocally, “Listen please, I am hoping for some quiet during my lying-in and you know that I will not get it if I remain in Hertfordshire, so close to our mother. You needn't tell anyone I was here. I know you are too good to lie, but you can simply insinuate that I met you in London. That _ is _ where I had hoped to find you originally. Jane, please, do not be leery. It is not such a very bad idea." 

Jane thought the idea was very bad indeed. But the sweet tempered woman was unaccustomed to arguing and could think of no other reasons to dissuade her strong willed sister. So, rather more coldly and with far more judgement than was her custom, she said, "You never could stay put, no matter the cost.” But she would only allow it if the doctor gave leave.

"Thank you Jane. You are a blessing."

  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

By the next day, Mrs. Elizabeth Wickham was again walking and active. It took another long day before she had sufficiently roused Mr. and Mrs. Bingley to pack and prepare to leave for London. Through the influence of her substantial will, she obtained the doctor's approval to travel the twenty miles in her brother-in-law's coach and four. The journey would take them from morning until afternoon, at which time they would arrive at Ennismore, the empty and waiting Bingley townhouse. Mrs. Hurst and her husband, who were regular residents, had gone to stay with that lady's recently married sister, Mrs. Caroline Hughes who resided now in Wales. The Hursts meant to return late that summer, if at all.

And so, without making their expected calls on the neighbors, without the London invitation to Kitty, and even without a proper goodbye to the Longbourn residents, the Bingleys left Hertfordshire. Their quick carriage and strong, well chosen team guaranteed that the party would make good time on their journey, which was only partially offset by Mrs. Bingley's imploring that the driver drive as carefully as possible, so as not to rattle the passengers inside. 

For all of her insistence that they leave immediately, Elizabeth was quiet on what she meant to do when they arrived in London. The three travelers spent the better part of the morning in silence. But as it was nearing midday Mrs. Bingley inquired of Elizabeth whether she might like to stop and rest at an upcoming inn.

Elizabeth agreed as cheerfully as a pregnant woman so jostled was capable. 

"I must leave you ladies briefly." Bingley said apologetically, after seeing them both out of the carriage and seated in the parlor. "I would like to have someone look to the horses, but I'll return after I tend to it."

Jane demurely nodded her assent and when he'd gone both sisters sank further back into their chairs.

"I feel wholly unladylike slouching so." 

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. "You feel it, but I look it. It is unfathomable. How can sitting in a carriage be more tiring than sitting in a parlor?"

"You are certain you are well enough to continue? Perhaps we should—“

Elizabeth waved her hands for silence."No, no. On we go."

"I only want to be certain."

"So tell me, do you hear often from Mary?" Elizabeth asked, while they waited for some tea to be brought. "Mama sent me the announcement from the newspaper, but I have not been so diligent as I ought with my letters."

"Her last letter was a few weeks back, but I think that she does very well in her new home."

"She reports that Cambridge agrees with her?"

"And marriage." Jane added. She paused a moment, then added, "You are making a face Elizabeth. Is it the town or the husband that you are so skeptical of? 

Elizabeth shook her head. "Neither, sweet sister. Tell me, is the Reverend's sister still living with them?"

"Yes. Sometimes I think that Mary could as little do without Miss Kinsley as she could without Rev. Kinsley.”

"You must be right. They have long been very close."

A maid brought a tray in then, with tea and cold lunch. Jane set about serving her sister, though Elizabeth declined the food. 

"Take a biscuit at least," Jane insisted. Then, returning to the previous conversation, she said, "I suspect Miss Kinsley played no little part in encouraging her brother to finally make his proposal."

"Well he could not have waited much longer."

"Yes. It is a pity he was asked to move parishes so suddenly. I believe our mother misses Mary more than she had anticipated."

"But she has Kitty for company. And you are not so far either."

"Yes, but still. Mary and Lydia have gone. And you. She misses you all.” 

Elizabeth thought on this while nibbling her biscuit. "Perhaps I will make a trip to Longbourn in couple of months. It must be after the baby has come and is strong enough to travel. I am sure both our parents will want to see the child and Father does not like town."

Jane smiled. "I think that he might make an exception." 

The sisters sat quietly for some time and Jane found herself lost deep in thought about the future.

"I wonder what is keeping your husband?" Elizabeth said, breaking the silence. "We should be on our way."

It took a moment for Jane to emerge from her reverie. "So soon? We are trying to travel easily."

"The sooner that we are in London, the sooner we need travel no longer."

"I suppose, but—"

"Come," said Elizabeth rising from her seat. "Let's be done with this."

Elizabeth nearly forced her sister to follow through the strength of her gravity alone. But Jane rallied her will and persuaded her sister back into the chair, insisting that the woman wait while Bingley was fetched.

"I will find Charles and have him bring the carriage around. You try to drink more tea. And do not move until I come back." 

"I know you will not fail me," Elizabeth said with a crooked smile.

Bingley, when Jane found him, was too agreeable to complain about the request—he simply had his meal packed to travel. 

Both ladies were soon handed up into the carriage. Almost immediately after they were on the road, Elizabeth fell asleep. She lay peacefully for quite some time, then grew more fitful. Finally Jane touched her shoulder to try and soothe her.

"Elizabeth dear, wake up. You are having a bad dream."

"I am not asleep," she said, keeping her eyes squeezed shut. 

"Bother! The road is not good. I shall ask the driver to slow so we are not so disturbed."

"No." Elizabeth said a bit crossly. "I think it would be better if we hurried on."

A few minutes later Elizabeth began to fidget again.

"Elizabeth are you—Oh! Heavens! Are you having labor pains? Is that what this is?”

Elizabeth Wickham could not see it, but Mr. Bingley turned very white at hearing his wife's words. 

Finally, straining for breath Elizabeth answered, "I am. But do not fret. As I said, let us just hurry on."

"Charles, how far are we from London?"

When he got his wits about him, the poor man reported that it would take but half of an hour to reach the great city. "But it could very well take us twice that to cross the width of it," he amended, lamentably.

"Do we have that long?" Jane asked her sister.

Having kept her pain a secret for some hours, Elizabeth was now struggling even to keep from crying. "I wish I knew!" she said somewhat pathetically. 

"Should we stop? There are plenty of inns and taverns along this stretch," Bingley said gesturing somewhat wildly.

"She cannot give birth at a tavern. Or an inn if we can at all help it." Jane said with resolve. "We must make it to Ennismore. Tell the driver to speed up while he can!" 

***

Jane hurried into a lamplit room where a doctor stood examining the newly washed child. "Please tell me, sir. Will the babe be alright?" she asked. "She is not too early I hope."

The doctor, a Howard Tembrook, returned the tightly wrapped baby to her Aunt's soft arms. The man was young for his profession. Nevertheless, Jane thought him peerless for his quick entrance and professional manner after their frantic arrival into town.

"There is no sign that she was born before the usual time. The girl is small, yes, but very healthy." 

"Oh, thank goodness." Jane said cradling her niece close. "We would never have traveled if we had expected her yet."

"Your sister is a small woman, but for her size and breeding she is quite strong. She and the child did very well. Yes, I believe Mrs. Wickham must have been mistaken. This little one is perhaps a week early," he allowed "or maybe two, but nothing more."

"Well, we thank you," Jane repeated, before carrying the new baby back into the adjoining room to Elizabeth.

Two maids were just helping Elizabeth to settle back into the refreshed bed. The new mother's face was washed as clean and pink as her daughter's. She looked worn, but smiled broadly when Jane approached to hand over the little girl. 

"I am glad you are back," Elizabeth explained when she quite suddenly seemed in danger of crying. "I know it is silly, but I had begun to feel like she was gone for a very long time." Jane kissed her sister's brow lovingly and then kissed the tiny child again.

"You should rest with me," Elizabeth said, gesturing to the empty space beside her in bed. "You have been standing too long."

Jane did so, sitting close, and putting an arm around her sister. 

"Elizabeth, I cannot express how angry I am right now," she said even as she hugged her. 

"Angry?"

"We should not have left Netherfield. Your daughter was not early and I think that you knew that."

"Not early? What would make you say such a thing?"

"The doctor..."

Elizabeth interrupted. "The doctor was very young. He hardly seemed like he could have very much experience in the matter," she said dismissively. "Oh, but dear Jane, could you send for a paper and pen? I must send a note to my husband."

"Your husband—Yes, of course," said Jane, eager enough to give up the argument. "I will fetch it myself. But would you like to wait until the morning, when you have recovered longer?" 

"I will write him again, more fully, tomorrow. But I want this sent now and in my own hand."

Jane nodded. Then sighing, she stood and left to find the materials.

***

Weeks passed and no word returned from Captain Wickham. 

Without further instruction, Elizabeth went forward christening the child Lucy and naming Mr. and Mrs. Bingley as Godparents. Her own parents visited London for the baptism and declared the baby a worthwhile effort on Elizabeth's part. “La, she looks just like her father," Mrs. Bennet decided. "Very well formed about the cheeks and eyes."

The Bingleys and Elizabeth finished the season in town before returning to Netherfield Park. There, later that Autumn, after a day of moderate labour Jane produced her second child—a boy. "I thought it certainly was going to be another girl!" Elizabeth told her sister. "No matter. All the cousins will be very good friends anyway."

The very next morning a letter came, bordered in black. Elizabeth hid, trying to keep it out of sight of her recovering sister. "The housekeeper told me you were here," Jane said, when she finally found Elizabeth in the upstairs nursery. "Will you please tell me what's happened?"

Mrs. Wickham directed her sister into a chair. "It is George. His commander writes that he has died in France." 

"I was afraid that was it," Jane said, beginning to cry.

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

In another upstairs nursery, this time at the Bingley townhouse on fashionable Clover Street in London, three-year old Frances Bingley, fourteen-month old Lucy Wickham, and nine-month old Thomas Bingley played together on a wool rug. Mrs. Elizabeth Wickham sat on a chair in front of an open window and read aloud to them a book of children's rhymes. She stopped at the sound of light footsteps ascending the stairs. 

"Good morning my sweet children," Jane said, stooping to lift her son and to kiss the two girls on their heads.

Elizabeth stood and replaced the book on its shelf. "I am afraid, dear Jane, that you have slept so late that they are nearly ready to be put down for a midday nap. Help me ready them and tell me how the dinner was at the May's last night?"

Jane gave her account, naming acquaintances who Elizabeth was just beginning to know in person as well as by report. "Next week,” Jane finished, "you must join us! Mrs. May asks about you particularly. She says that her friend Mrs. Wedgewood is expected in town and she would like to have the two of you together for her next party."

Elizabeth had already received her own, very welcome, letter from Mrs. Leah Wedgewood, which she had read earlier that morning, between other business at her desk.  Besides being a good friend of Mrs. Judith May, the esteemed Mrs. Wedgewood was also the wife of Lt. George Wickham's former commanding officer, and she had been Elizabeth's closest friend in Newcastle during the two years that they had all had been stationed in that town. Mrs. Wedgewood was ten years Elizabeth's elder and a very sensible and nurturing lady. But they had not been in each other's company since Lt. Wickham had been transferred to Scotland three years past. Mrs. Wedgewood’s husband, too, was greatly beloved by Elizabeth. He was a kind and charitable gentleman, very devoted to the growth and well being of his enlisted men. He had taken a personal interest in Wickham, just as his wife had in Elizabeth. 

"Very well,” Elizabeth agreed. “When Mrs. Wedgewood arrives, if there is an invitation, I will accept."

"Good. You know I have come to hold Mr. and Mrs. May and this group of Bingley's school friends very dear. And because you are very dear to me also," Jane said prodding, "I would like for them to know you better.” It was not Jane’s first time saying so.

Elizabeth soon received another letter announcing that the Colonel and Mrs. Wedgewood had arrived in town and had brought with them Mrs. Wedgewood's younger sister, a Miss Zwick. As soon as was practicable, Mrs. Wickham and Mrs. Bingley went to call on them.

"Mrs. Elizabeth Wickham! Your excellent reputation precedes you," the newly introduced Miss Eleanor Zwick said, taking Elizabeth's hand just as soon as they were seated together on the sofa. The girl was young at just twenty-one and possessed an even younger, excited voice. “A jewel of the British Army wives—that is how my sister describes you!” 

“Oh!” Elizabeth replied, face flushing. She looked quickly over to Mrs. Wedgewood and then back to Miss Zwick. “Well, I have long been looking forward to knowing you myself.”

“There is no need to be modest,” Miss Zwick said smiling, “because in this case I self-flatter. My sister has told me a great deal about you and says we two are quite alike in look and manner. So of course I have always liked to think the very best of you.”

“In temperament also,” Mrs. Wedgewood added.

Elizabeth was amused to hear this. “She told me the same. I believe I was a poor surrogate when she could not have you in Newcastle.”

Miss Zwick laughed. "I doubt it. Your wit, as relayed to me, stands on its own. Though your charming husband may have added some to the appeal of your company. I was so very sorry to hear of his passing. My sister reports he was a remarkably fine and amiable man." 

It was as sincere a message of condolence as Elizabeth had received from anyone, and she accepted Miss Zwick’s kind words with a nod. "My daughter and I now live primarily with my sister and her husband in Hertfordshire county." She gestured towards Jane.

"That is lovely country! And such an easy distance from London. It is no wonder that you are both so cosmopolitan.”

Elizabeth acknowledged only that it was very convenient. Eleanor Zwick, for her part, was pleased that her sister and brother-in-law intended to spend the season in town. Her parent's home was far from London, and indeed from any larger township. She bubbled with plans, while her more worldly older sister smiled indulgently.

"They are very generous to host me here and take me out. It is my first season in Town. Leah tells me that you will be attending dinner at Mr. and Mrs. May's on Thursday. I am very glad to hear that you will be there. I do not expect that I will have made anyone else’s acquaintance by that time, except for dear Mrs. May. And Leah has much more claim to her friendship than I do. An extra friendly face or two in the room will be welcome."

"I likewise find myself occasionally out to dinner with my sister and her husband without knowing much of the people who are in attendance. The evenings are always enjoyable, but a dinner is much nicer with a pleasant acquaintance on hand."

The call wrapped up shortly, with all four ladies wishing each other well until they met again later in the week.

"I liked her,” Elizabeth told Jane. "Miss Zwick is not so sensible as her sister; but since it is a fault I share, I will not judge it too harshly."

"I found both ladies very agreeable. Mrs. Wedgewood is just what I hoped—it makes me happy to think of her caring for you when you were living up north. But," Jane ventured, "perhaps you should not take the comparison between you and Miss Zwick too far. You are not perfect matches, or any sort of substitute for one and other. Understand, none of those differences make either of you bad, only that you are different. She is Mrs. Wedgewood’s sister.” Jane emphasised the last.

“And I am yours?” Elizabeth pretended to take Jane seriously. “I understand. She is not at all spoiled or vexing like I am and you want me entirely to yourself. Did I get it right?”

She did not, Jane informed her.

***

Though it was not her custom, Elizabeth did as she promised and followed Jane out to dinner.

The dinner party was comfortably large. Besides the Colonel and Mrs. Wedgwood and Miss Zwick, there were a dozen other persons attending. The company was made up principally by a group of friends from Cambridge University. Three of the men present had helped to introduce Bingley to high society during his years at school, and a bond of loyalty had formed between them all that extended to this day. As a result, Charles and Jane Bingley were often in the company of those friends—and by association, Elizabeth was welcomed also.

One of those Cambridge gentlemen, a Mr. May, was hosting this night’s dinner along with his wife. Also invited was Mr. Darcy, accompanied by his younger sister Miss Georgiana Darcy. The last of the Cambridge set was Mr. Henry Berklee, who brought along his younger brother Mr. Edmund Berklee. 

Elizabeth sat in the drawing room at the tea table with Mrs. Wedgewood, Miss Zwick and their hostess Mrs. May. Mrs. Leah Wedgewood, Mrs. Rachel May, and Miss Eleanor Zwick had grown up in the same rural village in Norfolk, before the elder two had married and moved away. The three had been enthusiastically sharing news from their home county until Mrs. Wedgewood asked to know a bit more about the other people in attendance. 

"Oh yes," Mrs. May replied lowering her voice. She leaned in and turned her head towards the neighboring group of ladies. "Mrs. Jane Bingley there you know. Next to her in the circle sits Miss Georgiana Darcy," Mrs. May continued. "This is her second London season, though she missed last year. We expect that she and the elder Mr. Berklee will announce an engagement by the end of the summer. Berklee and my Mr. May were at school together at Eton and Cambridge, along with Miss Darcy's brother."

"What a fortunate match." Mrs. Wedgewood said. "They will make for a stunning couple," she rightly concluded.

"Yes, they are both tall and so elegant. It makes one quite jealous." Mrs. May was herself neither short or ill favored, being equal to her husband in height and by a distant margin his superior in appearance. But Elizabeth had to agree that even in a far more crowded room, Miss Darcy and her intended would stand out. 

"Now for the other gentlemen:" Mrs. May continued, "Mr. Darcy, who was beside Eleanor at dinner, is a widow. His wife Mrs. Anne Darcy was lost two summers ago."

"In childbirth," Mrs. Wedgewood asked? 

"No, it was believed to be the influenza."

"Mrs. Darcy was not a strong woman," Elizabeth added.

"You were acquainted with Mrs. Darcy?" Mrs. May asked. She and Elizabeth were very cordial in company, but were not yet close friends. 

"I met her before she married." Elizabeth explained. "My cousin is the parish rector to her mother's estate in Kent." 

Mrs. May nodded, perhaps recalling something she had already learned from Jane. 

"What of the younger Mr. Berklee?" prompted Miss Zwick.

“Of course! Mr. Edmund Berklee is studying the law. He is the youngest in his family at only twenty-two, but he is a very studious young man. He is set to work in an office with Mr. Dedham, the prominent London barrister, once he has completed his studies."

"And what does the elder Berklee do?" asked Miss Zwick.

"He will inherit an estate in Devon."

“The Colonel and I have spent some time in Devon,” Mrs. Wedgewood reminded her friend. “What is the name of the estate?"

“Greatfleet Manor. It is located near Royston town."

Mrs. May shook her head. "I am not familiar with the property. Have you been there?" 

"I have not. But I have heard the manor called picturesque and well-situated. Once he inherits, Mr. Berklee will have five or six thousand a year there. He and Miss Darcy will be very comfortable indeed." 

When the gentlemen soon joined the party again, the ladies dispersed and Col. Wedgwood made his way to sit next to Elizabeth. He took her hand and said to her warmly, "My dear girl, I must tell you again how very good it is to see you."

Elizabeth smiled. "The same to you sir. I have often wished that you and your wife were miles closer."

"For the summer we will all have our wish. Now, if I may, I would like to make an appointment to call at your sister's house one day this week to bring you something. It is a copy of the treaty that your husband helped to negotiate. I've had the document printed specially, and I would like to you to have it to keep for your daughter."

Elizabeth looked as though she might cry at the consideration of it. "That is extremely gracious of you Col. Wedgewood." 

Bingley overheard the conversation and wanted to know what document they were speaking of.

"The Treaty of Amiens, no less," Col. Wedgewood answered more loudly, so that the general room could be included. "Your sister's husband was brilliant in diplomacy—the real kind, not the fancy sort where lords and ladies dress and dance. When the peace was being negotiated, every man in that tent was an ego. But Captain Wickham, with his careful attention, he kept them all feeling petted and important. For seventy-two hours, no one wanted for anything. The French were nearly impossible to reason with, and if it were not for her Wickham I do not believe that Joseph Bonaparte would even have remained at the council table. He was ready to take offense at the smallest slight."

Mr. Berklee nodded his head. "Remarkable! And you were there too?"

"Oh yes. In service to Cornwallis. "

"And will the peace hold?" Mr. Edmund Berklee wanted to know.

“If we are all very lucky. There will always be Englishmen willing to fight," Col. Wedgewood said. "And as a nation we are very capable. But the art of statesmanship and negotiation holds more allure for me at my age, than fighting and war."

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

The morning after the dinner party, Mrs. May, Mrs. Wedgewood, and Miss Zwick, together called on Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Wickham at Ennismore House. 

"We will come again on Tuesday, if that is agreeable," Mrs. May explained to everyone. She was always in high spirits after hosting dinner and receiving the commendation of her friends. ”I have arranged to take Miss Darcy out with me that day. Her aunt who acts as her chaperone is not yet in town and she is so shy, you will have noticed. I wanted to warn you so that you will not be surprised when all four of us arrive at one time."

"It will be no trouble at all," Jane assured her friend.

The ladies came again as promised. Miss Zwick was glowing and cheerful; her sister good humored and warm; Mrs. May, happy in her power to bring others together; and Miss Darcy, as elegant and well dressed as she had been at their previous meeting.

"I remember hearing her called proud once, many years ago. But that is not right at all, is it?" Elizabeth commented, when the group had gone.

"You are speaking of Miss Darcy? No. I would say that opinion is much mistaken,” answered Jane.

"She does not talk a great deal, but seems eager to please you and Mrs. May."

Jane disagreed. "I thought her quite taken by you and Miss Zwick. I think Miss Darcy is often around older women and rarely gets to meet with those her own age."

Elizabeth laughed. "Then the year and a half between you and I can hardly make a difference. Miss Zwick fits that need better. They are both just one and twenty." 

Jane would not argue their relative merits, and besides, had more mundane things on her mind. "I must plan a dinner here soon. Before everyone's calendars fill and I am unable to do my duty."

"It is hard to compete with the likes of Mrs. May, who gets such evident satisfaction out of hosting." 

Jane nodded. “I must go through my schedule and invitations today. There is a growing pile that I have not answered, and since many are addressed to us both, I would like your say in how we answer."

Elizabeth, who did sometimes enjoy the company of interesting people, made up her mind to be as agreeable and helpful to her sister as possible. "Yes, let's look. I am resolved to say that if I am invited, and if you would like me there, and if children are not sick and can be got to bed at a reasonable time, then I will try to make myself available to you for anything you like to do."

"Good. A party is better when you are there." 

Elizabeth was pleased to see how happy this promise made her sister. Between visitors that morning they did construct a calendar, and together throughout the week they made calls, attended two dinners, and saw one very unimpressive concert.

"I'm sorry that was not better." Elizabeth apologized to her sister and brother-in-law as they waited for their carriage at the evening's end. In Jane’s excitement, she had allowed Elizabeth to choose the exotic production from several that were available that evening. "I had thought it would be something more than it was."

"That's alright," Bingley assured her, yawning. "I've got to have something to report back when we dine again with friends. And the Duke of — was here, even if it was only for a short time."

"Yes, do you think he had word that the show was best skipped? Otherwise, how did he know to leave before it began?"

Bingley agreed it showed remarkable foresight. 

The next day they sat at home with the children. Frances Bingley lined her young brother and cousin up in front of their parents to accompany her in a song which they could not sing. Elizabeth was delighted and declared it the best production of the summer.

***

There was one social task that week that Elizabeth looked forward to with apprehension, no matter how insignificant. She and Jane must go to the Darcy townhouse to return Miss Darcy's call. It would not be so very bad, she reminded herself. Miss Darcy had proved very sweet and inoffensive. And though Elizabeth shrank still from seeing Mr. Darcy, he, as a rule, ignored her completely and was, moreover, unlikely to be at home.

When they arrived, Elizabeth was gratified to learn that Mrs. May and Miss Zwick were already sitting with Miss Darcy. 

"My sister was here earlier," Miss Zwick told Elizabeth, "but she had a number of correspondents to answer today and felt she should not spend the entire day away from home. She asked me to tell you, if we saw you this morning, that she was grateful for the silk that you sent."

Mrs. May cornered Jane. ”I was just telling Miss Darcy that my husband, her brother, and their whole lot are meeting for dinner tonight at their club. I thought I would want an evening at home to organize myself, but really, who wants to do that when they have just come to town a month ago? Later in the season I shall be grateful for an evening off, but this early I think it a pity we ladies can't all go out together in their absence. There is quite a good program at the Haymarket Theater. It is a ballet." 

"Go to the theater without the gentlemen?" Elizabeth wondered.

"Well," Mrs. May said thinking, "yes! Why not really. We are an utterly respectable group. Those of us who are older and married can act as chaperones for the younger. And the show is said to be very good."

Jane and Miss Darcy both sat silently, the later with conspicuous concern. 

"Perhaps my brother Colonel Wedgewood would come with us," Miss Zwick offered. Her tone, however, betrayed her knowledge that the Colonel was already engaged for the evening.

Elizabeth did want to see the show. She had already regretted not choosing it over the concert the previous evening. "But I'm afraid I have no gentlemen to propose, unless Jane will offer up her Thomas," Elizabeth said, hoping they would laugh. The ladies did.

Though they left with no firm plans, Elizabeth fully expected that an invitation would arrive later that day inviting Jane and possibly herself to a quiet dinner at the May's. And so, at not too late an hour, the bell rang and a letter was delivered. Jane surprised her sister by reporting that the expected invitation was instead from Miss Darcy. "She says that her cousin and guardian Col. Fitzwilliams has just arrived in town and would like nothing so much as to escort her and her friends to the theater this evening. If we agree, she will arrive here with her carriage to drive us."

"Goodness! Isn't that kind of her. Are you already acquainted with Colonel Fitzwilliam?" Elizabeth wanted to know.

“Oh yes.” Jane reported that she liked the man a good deal. "I remember that you met him also, years ago. He is within the past year retired from the army."

"He was not hurt, I hope.”

Jane shook her head. "I don't believe so. Rather, he stands now to inherit his Aunt's estate in Kent."

Elizabeth had not heard this. She had let her letter writing with Mrs. Charlotte Collins lapse before the time of Lucy's birth. Her conscience prickeled. That failing too must remedied, she decided. 

“Mrs. May has bought the tickets already,” continued Jane. “I shall accept the invitation unless you disagree.”

Elizabeth did not.

***

Miss Darcy's carriage came around Ennismore house at the appointed hour. She was accompanied inside by her cousin and an animated Mrs. May. They must still stop to pick up Mrs. Wedgewood and her sister on their way to the theater, Miss Darcy informed them. 

Though Elizabeth felt shy, the Colonel proved as agreeable as she remembered him in Kent. In his genial way, he addressed the oddness that was between them.

"I'll admit I was very surprised when I learned that a Mrs. Wickham was joining our party this evening and even more when I learned that she was you," the Colonel told her. "I hope you will accept my condolences on your untimely widowhood. No one should suffer that."

"Thank you sir. With your occupation, it is something with which you must be too familiar." 

He acknowledged this was true.

"I am excited to take Eleanor out tonight especially," Mrs. May announced to the carriage as they pulled away. "I can hardly wait to astonish her with a London theater. Imagine how excited she will be when even a dinner at my poor townhouse brought her such delight."

When they arrived at the lodgings being rented by the Colonel and Mrs. Wedgewood, Colonel Fitzwilliam stepped out to help the ladies into the carriage and to shake hands with Colonel E. Wedgewood.

“I am bewitched!” Elizabeth exclaimed when she saw her friends through the open door. The sisters were dressed very well. Leah Wedgewood looked extremely becoming in a new evening dress, just commissioned she told them all, from a little store suggested to her by Mrs. May. And Eleanor, without being overly formal, carried herself as elegantly as Miss Darcy, and looked, Elizabeth had to admit, nearly as pretty as Jane. The Colonel looked pleased with himself and his company as they all settled in.

The theater was as crowded as expected with a well reviewed program in house. When the Darcy carriage finally arrived to the front of the queue, and everyone inside had spilled out, the ladies huddled close and, holding on to hands and shoulders, made their way into the glittering building. 

Once seated, Colonel Fitzwilliam managed to bring them all drinks before the first act began. Miss Zwick, who was every bit as awed and wide eyed as Mrs. May had predicted, told him, "You are too terribly kind, Col. Fitzwilliam. And you ought not be too attentive to us ladies tonight or I fear your cousin will find that she wants you around a great deal."

"Georgiana knows that I am always available to her."

It was satisfying to see Miss Zwick’s innocent joy in the show. And the ballet itself did not disappoint. Jolly and jovial the party made their way back to the Darcy house for dessert afterwards, where, surprised, they found several husbands and brothers in waiting. The gentlemen welcomed the ladies and reassured them that they had only just arrived. Coffee and tea were ordered and the men soon picked up the more lively attitude of the women.

"You made a better choice than us tonight," Elizabeth heard Bingley tell the Colonel.

"I cannot comment on the quality of their outing tonight, but poor Mr. Bingley has had a disappointing week of entertainment,” Elizabeth added.

She was quite surprised to hear Mr. Darcy responded instead of his cousin.

"Georgiana and I had nearly gone to the concert of Iberian music ourselves. I wondered, though, if Bingley was overstating how bad it was." 

Elizabeth must reply. "No, I am afraid it was as terrible as reported.” Col Fitzwilliam looked expectantly, so she continued as lightly as she was able. “When they promised us instruments from Spain and the North of Africa, we had thought they would also know how to play them. The arrabel player, who I am sure is a very competent violinist, particularly ought to have practiced more. It was unkind of them to tempt us to know more of the world and then to fail to deliver so thoroughly. For those of us who do not travel it could create a very unflattering picture of those faraway places."

"Yes, that is exactly what I meant to say about it!" Mr. Bingley exclaimed. "Darcy could not understand my complaints."

"The complaint, as you described it, was only that they did not inspire feelings of the exotic in you." Mr. Darcy countered.

Bingley nodded that this was true. "The show tonight, though, I am sure was much better?" 

"Yes, much," Elizabeth responded. "The plot was simple, the hero brave, and the heroine not too stupid."

"Only just enough so that we would believe her plight," added Miss Zwick, joining the conversation from her seat between Elizabeth and Miss Darcy. Her eyes sparkled with pleasure at her own wit.

They all laughed.

Elizabeth left Darcy House feeling celebratory: she was now reacquainted with the amiable Colonel Fitzwilliam; she said her first words to Mr. Darcy in five years that were not completely utilitarian (or irate...); and most especially, the evening was spent with friends both old and dear like Mrs. Wedgewood, and new and exciting, like her sister Miss Zwick. Elizabeth’s pleasure in all this was such that she could pardon Mr. Bingley for kissing Jane on the way to the carriage, when he thought she was not looking.

But by the next day, time and reflection had moderated her feeling of victory. She was, she decided, a little sorry for some of her more garrulous behavior, for that way lead to trouble. ‘I must not put myself too far forward,’ she told herself, remembering that she was the person of least rank and consequence to be found in these London drawing rooms. As a widow, she was there to increase Jane's pleasure foremost, and to support her sister’s friends. And where possible, this meant that she should give way and put forward the other ladies of the group.

‘Temper your pride that you might limit your penitence,’ she thought, taking time after to admire the sound of it.

  
  



	10. Chapter 10

Always feeling the need to keep busy, Mrs. Wedgewood asked if she and her sister could join Elizabeth and Mrs. May in the park early the next morning when they went to supervise the children with their nursemaids. It was a nice addition, as both sisters were fond of children and doted on the Bingley, Wickham, and May offspring to the satisfaction of their maternal relations.

“Poor dear child,” Mrs. Wedgewood said about Lucy as they watched her totter down the garden path. “But she is a beauty.”

“A beauty like her Aunt,” Mrs. May responded. Mrs. May’s best quality was how fond she was of Jane.

Miss Zwick chortled aloud, “And also her mother and father—”

Elizabeth was not offended, and anyway, Mrs. May paid no mind. Judith was in her usual excellent mood—her efforts at outdoing her husband in planning the previous evening’s entertainments were accomplished with great success and she wanted to talk over what had happened, minute by minute, with her friends. 

“And Col. Fitzwilliam! My dears, I swear I had forgotten what a gentleman he is.” Mrs. May was prepared to share every detail she knew of the man and, in this case, Miss Zwick and Mrs. Wedgewood were willing listeners. 

“And does he look for a wife, I suppose?” Mrs. Wedgewood asked eventually.

“Yes. And it is high time. He is very eligible.” 

"Men of the Army are all so devoted and attentive,” Mrs. Wedgewood whispered to Elizabeth in a voice meant to be overheard by the others. “You will not find their better as husbands or as friends."

“I would not dare disagree,” Miss Zwick exclaimed, looking significantly from her sister, to Elizabeth, to Mrs. May, and back. Imagine if I were to try!"

“Mrs. Wedgewood would insist that her particularly devoted and attentive husband only informs her judgement on the topic, not clouds it," Elizabeth told Mrs. May, who though she was not an army wife, did have a brother in the career.

"These men of London society are considerably better than I had hoped,” Miss Zwick continued the subject. “Back home the newspapers have everyone trapped in scandals and licentiousness. I thought that as a country maid I would have to be much more often on my guard. Instead, they are all pleasant address and courteous behavior!"

“It is a credit to Mrs. Wickham and Mrs. May that they have such quality friends. I would not be grieved to spend more time with them,” said Mrs. Wedgewood.

"Not grieved at all," Miss Zwick agreed. "My only additional wish is to claim them as my own friends by the season's end."

Elizabeth liked it as a goal for Miss Zwick, but she hardly felt that she could claim them as friends herself, thinking of that group of people, as she always had, as belonging exclusively to Jane and Bingley. But she said aloud that she would gladly support Miss Zwick’s stake in it. Miss Zwick had the excellent instinct to look prettily at Mrs. Wickham and blush, as if she could hardly believe her good luck in finding a supportive ally.

‘Bravo,’ Elizabeth thought. Miss Zwick had thoroughly charmed her both today and yesterday. Elizabeth left unsaid that she would also support her new friend in her hunt for a husband as well—for that must be the ultimate goal of Miss Zwick's summer in town. 

***

Busy London soon brought word from another much more long standing friend—Mrs. Charlotte Collins, fresh from Kent. Elizabeth had just a few weeks before begun corresponding with her oldest friend again. And she was surprised to find, only a few hours after receiving an express, that Charlotte had arrived in town and was standing on the front steps of Ennismore house, waiting to be invited in for tea. Elizabeth was elated.

"I wish I could have given you more notice, but we have hardly had any ourselves,” Charlotte told Elizabeth once they were seated her parlor. Lady Catherine made her plans only just this week and was as reluctant to travel on her own as Mr. Collins was to let her."

"And you have brought all five children with you, also?" Elizabeth asked, amazed.

"They required a carriage entirely to themselves, but it was comfortable enough with their nurse and I on board to sooth them when the trip grew long. Besides, I am quite happy to bring them. I've sent a letter to my mother and father and I hope they will join us here later this week. I am eager for the children to spend some time with them, since we will not make it to Hertfordshire before next spring."

“Your parents will be so pleased,” Elizabeth agreed. "And I am glad also. It has been too many years since I have seen my godson and I must fawn a bit over him. How are the rest of your party? Will I find Lady Catherine much altered?"

Charlotte thought about the last and then answered, "You will not find her very altered these days. But in truth she was greatly affected by her daughter's passing. There was a time when we feared she would not recover from that blow. It is in the last three or four months only that she regained some of her interest in the world again. Particularly as it relates to her nephew."

"Oh?"

Charlotte’s intelligence on the subject of Col. Fitzwilliam was rather more complete and less obviously biased that Mrs. May’s. "Yes. You will have heard that the Colonel now stands to inherit Rosings Park when Lady Catherine passes. There was quite an uproar amongst her de Bourgh relatives when that became known. But none can demand otherwise. It is freely hers and she may gift it where she chuses."

"Do you know why it is going to the Colonel and not to Mr. Darcy? He married her daughter, after all."

"I think she would have given it to Mr. Darcy had he not put forward his cousin after Anne's death."

"How fortunate for the Colonel."

"Yes. Fitzwilliam has quit the army because of it and spends the majority of his time in Kent now. We see him regularly at the parsonage. His next task is to acquire a wife. Lady Catherine has become particularly concerned about this in recent months and comes to London primarily for this purpose."

"He will brave the challenge honorably, I am sure."

Charlotte eyed her friend, considering those words. "I remember that Colonel Fitzwilliam liked you a great deal when you met."

"He was, and is, a very agreeable man.”

“Good. You must come to the ball that is being held at week's end at the Matlock House. It is being given in Miss Darcy's honor, but the Colonel will be actively looking for a wife there. And even if his eye is turned towards another lady, it will still be a good chance for you to see what other men are available."

Elizabeth laughed in response. “You at least have not changed my dear. It is kind of you to think of me, but remember, I am still in mourning."

Charlotte tutted. ”Pshh, in another few months no one would be at all surprised if you married again."

"Hearts do not mend on a strict timeline."

"Then it is better to have a new husband around to help console you."

"Charlotte, really…"

Charlotte sat back, evaluating. "I am sorry Elizabeth. I see I am upsetting you."

“No, only give me some time. You were always my best champion and when I am ready, I promise I shall take full advantage."

Charlotte agreed. "Please tell me that you will at least attend the Fitzwilliam ball?"

"Of course. It has been on my calendar for some weeks. And I would not want to miss an evening of your company."

  
  



	11. Chapter 11

Elizabeth spoke true and did not miss the Fitzwilliam family’s ball being held in honor of Miss Darcy—an evening which might be said, after all, to represent the pinnacle of the season. All of Jane's many friends were to attend, as well as Mrs. Wedgewood and her sister. And there would be the rather grand section of London society which Georgiana's aunt and uncle, the Lord and Lady of Matlock, were a part of. Rev. Collins called during the week to let his cousins know that Lady Catherine learned of their attending the ball and that she was prepared to receive them during the earliest hour of the event. For this reason, Elizabeth made her way to a luxurious sitting room while the halls were still very sparsely occupied. Lady Catherine was waiting there in a large chair, along with Charlotte and her husband.

"Yes, I remember you," Lady Catherine told her, straining to see at the distance.

Elizabeth curtsied. 

"Come and sit with me." Lady Catherine motioned to the smaller seat immediately next to hers, which Mr. Collins vacated. “Your cousin keeps me informed about you Bennets, but I would like to hear more of your parents and sisters."

Elizabeth said that she would be happy to talk of them and found her place between Charlotte and the lady. From there, she related what she could of each family member, their current locations, and answered subsequent questions as she was able. Elizabeth had at first thought that as other guests came in to call on the matriarch, that she would find herself soon dismissed. But no, Lady Catherine’s focus was undimmed and she persevered to have all her questions answered. 

"Is that one of your younger sisters there, skulking in the doorway?"

Elizabeth turned around to see who the Lady was referring to. 

"No Ma'am. Mrs. Bingley, who you have met, is my only sister present. If you please, that lady is Miss Eleanor Zwick."

"Well invite her in, then.” 

Mr. Collins ran to do so. 

Lady Catherine continued. “And she is not your sister? Strange, she looks a great deal more like you than Mrs. Bingley."

"It is the brunette hair, I believe," Charlotte offered. 

Miss Zwick, however, was quite gone. Instead, Mr. Collins found Colonel Fitzwilliam passing through and forced him to stop a moment. "Richard," said Lady Catherine, "tell me, did you know Mrs. Wickham's husband before he was lost?"

"Somewhat.” He looked uncomfortable with the detention and stayed near the door.

"Then sit with us. I wish to hear about the man."

"Aunt," said the Colonel, "I think that Mrs. Wickham may find the subject painful."

"Why should she?" Lady Catherine asked. "I was a widow at her age, or near to. Besides, it is always flattering to hear of one's husband. Was he a handsome man?"

"Yes, ma'am," answered Elizabeth in place of the Colonel.

"Though not so handsome as my nephews."

"No, I think not."

Fitzwilliam protested, admonishing his aunt for her question. "Next, some gossip will be taking her to task for being forward, all because someone heard her call us handsome." 

"Don't be ridiculous Richard. That is very low behavior. No one visiting my brother's house would do such a thing. Now Mrs. Wickham, where did you and your husband meet?"

"We first became acquainted while his company was stationed in my hometown.”

"And where did you live after you were married?"

"For a short time at first in Brighton, then longer in Newcastle—“ 

"Newcastle? Well that is practically in Scotland!" 

"We were" Elizabeth continued, "also in Scotland, for a time. That was George's final posting."

"And you went with him there?" Lady Catherine asked, astonished. "In a place where no ladies go? So far a distance, when you could have lived with your family?"

"Rather," Elizabeth shook her head, "there were many ladies there in Scotland. And many militia wives. I will admit to being happiest in Newcastle, but I think there are many who have very strong affections for Edinburgh and for good reason."

"Heavens," she said, not believing Elizabeth at all. Then, turning to her nephew, "tell me about Mr. Wickham's reputation as an army man?"

"I really must go Aunt Catherine,” the Colonel said moving. "I am due to lead Georgiana out in the opening dance. Mrs. Wickham, who is taking you out this turn? May I help you locate your partner?"

"Thank you, but I am not dancing tonight."

"Ah," he hesitated. "Perhaps then, you would care to come and watch the opening? And what about you Aunt? Miss Georgiana and I will put on a good show, I dare say."

"Watch someone dance?" Lady Catherine asked. "Goodness no. What an insufferable use of time."

Elizabeth smiled. She would happily have followed the Colonel, but if dancing couples could not draw her ladyship out of the sitting room, Elizabeth felt she should not leave Charlotte behind with her alone. 

"I saw Lady Cassandra Crenshaw and her three daughters arriving just a short time ago,” added the Colonel, regrouping. “For my mother’s sake, I’m sure I had better ask at least one of them to dance tonight." 

"You would dance with a Miss Crenshaw?!" Lady Catherine shook her head as she spoke. Then she pounded a hand on the arm of her chair, saying, “Help me rise! It is I who must speak with that woman.”

Elizabeth and Mrs. Collins were thus cleared to follow the party into the ballroom and pay their respects to other friends. 

***

Charlotte was wrong when she said that Lady Catherine had largely recovered from the loss of her daughter. Elizabeth found her smaller, her voice wane, and her body very much weakened. Still, through some resolve of character, Lady Catherine marched in search of Lady Cassandra and her daughters, aided physically by the arm of Rev. Collins. 

As soon as they entered the golden ball room, Col. Fitzwilliam left to open the dance with Miss Darcy. Just as the music was beginning, Elizabeth came upon Mrs. Wedgewood standing with her husband. Elizabeth greeted them warmly and introduced Mrs. Collins. 

“Where is your sister? I saw her earlier,” Elizabeth asked.

“Dancing with Mr. Berklee there,” Leah Wedgewood answered. She pointed at Miss Zwick and Mr. James Berklee, who were engaged in a proficient scotch reel. Mrs. Wedgewood and Elizabeth shared a look of wonder about this. “He is a better dancer than I imagined.” A few couples up the line were Miss Darcy and her cousin, moving with rather less ease.

When the first set ended, Miss Zwick was led off the floor to her sister's side. Once Mr. Berklee had gone, Miss Zwick admitted to the ladies that, "I am practically in raptures. Later this evening, I am engaged to dance with both Mr. Darcy _ and _ Colonel Fitzwilliam! And I was entirely surprised to be asked by Mr. Berklee just then.” She gestured towards the departing man. “Mr. Berklee is a credit to Miss Darcy’s good judgement. If I am ever to marry, I could only hope it will be to a man half so attentive."

Having been very bold, Miss Zwick looked to Elizabeth for assurance and encouragement about her actions so far; and assurance and encouragement was what Elizabeth gave to her. Elizabeth told Eleanor that her blue dress was very becoming, that she had danced quite well, and that they were all excited to hear how the rest of the evening proceeded. Eleanor blossomed under this attention, but she was too much taken by nervous energy to stand still long. So very soon she carried her sister and brother-in-law off to the punch before the next set began.

Charlotte stayed by Elizabeth's side. Quietly, so no neighbor might overhear them she whispered to her friend, "Mrs. Wedgewood is lovely, but I cannot like her sister much as a friend for you."

"Good heavens. Why ever not?" Elizabeth asked, before thinking better of it.

"I am jealous on your behalf. You should surround yourself with old married ladies. Not lively girls, more forward than you are with their affections."

"You are incorrigible," Elizabeth said, laughing. “If the season ends with her engagement, I will be very satisfied.” 

The two friends decided to stroll together, taking in their rich surroundings and gossiping lightly.

“That is the master of the house, Lord Walter Fitzwilliam, Earl of Matlock,” Charlotte pointed out an old English Lord standing at the head of a party of men. He was of height with his son the Colonel and not at all grown stout with age. His face and expression called to mind his elder sister and Elizabeth would have been surprised if he proved any less forceful and cunning of character than Lady Catherine.

“What is Lady Matlock like?” Elizabeth wanted to know. It was hard to imagine how someone as amiable as Col. Fitzwilliam came from such a family of bears.

“She is weaker,” was all that Charlotte would presently say. “The women who marry in all are. I will introduce you if I get the chance. The Colonel’s sister I have never had the pleasure of meeting, but his brother’s wife is standing there with Miss Darcy. The younger girl next to them is Georgiana’s cousin, Julia. Shall we go to them?”

Elizabeth did not care to. She did not have Charlotte’s stamina or commitment for making and maintaining connections in society. 

“But you might as well. Otherwise I must return later with Mr. Collins,” Charlotte informed her. It was both a plea and a threat. 

Guilted, Elizabeth motioned for Charlotte to lead on.

Lady Susan Fitzwilliam, the Viscountess Scarsdale and wife of the younger Lord Walter, paid Elizabeth and Charlotte hardly any mind even as they were being introduced. But Georgiana seemed happy to see them and accept their compliments. “Poor girl,” thought Elizabeth, “when I stand as one of her closest friends here.”

With the pleasantries finished, Elizabeth and Charlotte were preparing to leave again when Mr. Darcy came to check on his sister.

His inquiries were interrupted by Lady Scarsdale. “Have you seen my husband?” she very much wanted to know.

“I saw him leaving,” Darcy responded in a low voice. 

“Oh! To his club I suppose. Tonight of all nights.” Her face screwed up in frustration.

Mr. Darcy looked frustrated also and did not linger. “Cousin Susan, cousin Julia, if either of you require anything this evening, please let me know. Georgiana, I believe this is our dance.” He then bowed to Charlotte and Elizabeth and went away. 

As if she cared not at all that Charlotte and Elizabeth were still standing there, Lady Scarsdale turned to her daughter and wailed. “The dog! He promised! And after I asked specifically not to be left with his mother or Aunt Catherine tonight!”

“Grandpa will manage Aunt Catherine,” the girl reassured her mother. 

“Goodness,” said Elizabeth when they had walked away. It seemed kinder not to be embarrassed for the Fitzwilliams, so she fumbled for a weak joke instead.

Charlotte though, did not laugh. “It is entirely in keeping with their character.”

Charlotte would have been very disappointed with Elizabeth if she had remained with her much longer. But at that moment, she was called away to her husband and Lady Catherine, while Elizabeth strayed and moved about the room, watching the dancers. While she did, she was approached by a Mr. Arling, a man she knew slightly as a friend of Bingley. ‘But really,’ she thought, ‘who had Bingley ever met who wasn't a friend?’

Mr. Arling was an energetic man of around thirty or so, of perfectly average height and slightly better looks. “The next dance is about to begin. Would you care to join me?" he asked easily.

"Thank you sir, but I regret I am not dancing tonight." She changed her expression so he would see her look appropriately remorseful.

"Bah," he surprised her by exclaiming loudly. "What blunderer has got to you first? Actually, please don't answer that question. I'll not out the man in case it is me."

Elizabeth laughed. "There is no one here to keep me off the floor except a sticky bit of propriety. I am too recently a widow sir." 

“Still? My mistake," he said bowing. “I thought I’d known you longer than that.” He smiled and spoke with her a few more minutes before he left.

The night continued pleasantly through dinner and several more sets. Miss Darcy looked no more or less comfortable when dancing with her brother, with Mr. Berklee, or with the several other men who partnered with her, than she had at the start of the night with her cousin. She felt too many eyes on her, Elizabeth suspected. Col. Fitzwilliam did rather better with his later partners. In many ways, it was his coming out ball as much as it was Georgiana’s. A bold gentleman might still try to win Miss Darcy away from Mr. Berklee, but the Colonel, with no known attachments, was considered a much more achievable prize. 

Later, after hours of watching happy couples, Elizabeth was keen for her gregarious brother-in-law to give up talking so that she could go home to sleep. A drowsy Jane, who had danced much of the night, took Elizabeth's arm so that they might support each other.

"How lovely it all was."

Elizabeth agreed, looking once more around the golden room.

"I want your opinion," Jane spoke in a low voice, "I rather thought that Colonel Fitzwilliam was taken by one of the Miss Crenshaws."

"I saw that also." Elizabeth had watched all the dancing from her place with the older women. She thought of Lady Catherine's strong reaction to their name earlier in the evening. "It is too early, I suppose, to make much of it, but would his family support that match?"

Jane shook her head. "I can't think of a reason why not. Their mothers are great friends from youth.” As both Elizabeth and Jane had noticed, the Colonel had danced with Miss Alice Crenshaw early in the evening. And though he had repeated no dancing partners during the night, he had returned to the dark haired young woman several times since then, and was talking with her and her sisters presently. 

"I hope she is a nice girl," Elizabeth admitted.

Jane thought she would be.


	12. Chapter 12

Both Jane Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam would have been surprised to learn just how many of their acquaintances were against his potential match to Miss Alice Crenshaw. At first, it was only Lady Catherine voicing an immoderate dislike for the entire Crenshaw family (most especially the mother, but also the daughter, and definitely the father…) Then, Miss Eleanor Zwick began to complain a little when the Colonel did not show at a dinner she and her sister contrived to host. Soon Mrs. May took up the cause when he cancelled again, wondering out loud how Miss Crenshaw was in any way superior to the ladies present. Charlotte only kept quiet because she could not convince Elizabeth to try for the Colonel herself. 

“I am sorry Charlotte,” Elizabeth said when her friend broached the subject, “but I am condemned by Miss Alice’s character to like her.”

Having newly fixed on the Colonel, Miss Zwick had the most selfish reason for being against Miss Crenshaw. But it was the only one that Elizabeth could have any sympathy with. Eleanor brough up the topic of ‘that woman’ one afternoon when the group of ladies had gone shopping.

“I could hardly believe it,” Eleanor complained, “Miss Crenshaw’s new dress looked so exactly like the one I wore to Miss Darcy’s ball. It was not mere chance. I remember that she complimented me on it that night!”

Jane patted Eleanor's hand. “The dress was a very becoming color of blue. It is a very good choice for someone of your and Miss Crenshaw’s coloring.”

Wide eyes pleading, Eleanor turned to Elizabeth for some better relief of her anguish. All of Jane’s continuing comments about Miss Crenshaw were true; but they were also all flattering and therefore far too harsh for present company. The Colonel looked ready to make an offer for Alice Crenshaw; and though Eleanor might need to know that she would not to catch the gentleman now, she did not need to know how well the other woman deserved him.

Elizabeth tried to sound sympathetic and practical. She felt a little sorry for the girl; but in her unpretending, unshared heart, she could not begrudge the Colonel his choice. Elizabeth was disinterested enough to recognize that Miss Crenshaw was a very superior match, in station and in temperament, to any other lady who had received the Colonel's attentions this summer. Richard Fitzwilliam and Alice Crenshaw would make a fine, well-matched couple. Miss Zwick perhaps could feel this also, because she turned silent, leaving Elizabeth and Mrs. Wedgewood to discuss the latter's upcoming move to the county of Cumbria.

“I wish your posting was somewhere further south, or best of all, Hertfordshire,” Elizabeth said to Mrs. Wedgewood, even as she watched the younger girl draw away from company. “But I am always greedy for you.”

***

Miss Zwick, to her credit, did not lose the forest for the trees; and she did not let the loss of the Colonel affect her growing friendships with other members of that circle. Instead, she made it a point to always be available. In that spirit, she sat with Mrs. May daily, with Elizabeth and Jane frequently, and with Miss Darcy when possible. Whatever discouragement she felt was met by native determination to succeed. 

She was in one of these tenacious moods, one fine morning, late in August, when a group of ladies were being welcomed into the Darcy townhouse during calling hours. Elizabeth and Jane had just come from a visit to Lady Catherine and Charlotte, and they found Mrs. May and Miss Zwick already sitting with Georgiana.

"You look lovely today Mrs. Wickham. Is that a new bonnet?" Mrs. May asked, in greeting.

"Yes, thank you,” Elizabeth said, showing off its pale green color and tasteful flowers, “it is my first morning wearing it. Miss Darcy’s aunt commended me on it also. She said it made me look meeker."

Mr. Darcy, who was just passing through the hallway on his way out, coughed through any greeting he might have made to the guests.

The ladies settled into tea and conversation. Elizabeth thought they were all in a particularly fine mood.

"I think that you might mention the latest news, without it being inappropriate Georgiana." Mrs. May soon prompted. "Mr. Berklee will surely be inviting the gentlemen as we speak."

Georgiana Darcy looked as though she had rather not say anything, but could not help it now that her friend had spoken. 

“Mr. Berklee intends to gather a party at his parents’ estate in Devonshire. He hopes that Mr. Bingley and my brother will be a part of that group,” was what Georgiana chose to say.

“They will be hunting, I suppose,” said Jane. Autumn was, after all, the start of the hunting season.

"But that is not the entire sum of the news," Miss Zwick prompted Miss Darcy to continue. “And not at all the exciting part!”

"Mr. Berklee tells us also that his mother will invite a party of ladies to join them."

"Georgiana is to be their particular guest," Mrs. May said, proud of her friend. “He delivered the invitation to her himself.”

Miss Darcy could not bring herself to say that Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Wickham should expect an invitation to Devonshire also; but Elizabeth trusted that Mrs. May would not have dared to bring up the subject had Mr. Berklee not already assured her that his mother was inviting everyone in the room.

Indeed, an invitation to Greatfleet Hall, the Berklee family ancestral home, was waiting when Elizabeth and Jane arrived home at Ennismore. “They have set the date for two weeks from now, so that we may see the end of the season,” said Jane. “The occasion must be to introduce Miss Darcy to Mr. Berklee’s parents. The idea is clever, to make it a large party. Georgiana is so shy, being the sole focus of attention would be very difficult.”

Elizabeth, for her part, had no intention of accepting Lady Berklee’s generous invitation. Of course Jane should go, to see that part of the country and spend time with her friends. But as for herself, “I will be wanted surely to watch the children. And to see about reopening Netherfield Park. I can leave for Hertfordshire just as you are leaving for Devon. By the time that the birds are all shot at the Berklee estate, I will have the house in good order and ready to receive you and whatever friends you wish for the next round.”

Jane would not have it. “The offer is generous, but I mean to ask my mother to come and stay with the children. She has been wanting to visit London, but not while the summer was so warm. Now she will have reason and means. Besides, Mrs. Wedgewood and Miss Zwick will be there. They would miss you excessively if you were not in attendance.”

Not excessively, Elizabeth thought. But Jane had planned too well for Elizabeth to resist. To Devonshire she would go, to spend a fortnight at the coast with friends.

Bingley was excited for another reason. “I can hardly wait to see Berklee’s stallion Walmsley. He’s hardly stopped talking about the horse all summer.” Bingley claimed this, as if the nearly silent James Berklee were as loquacious about buying things as Bingley himself. He also ordered his own hunter sent to Devon in anticipation of the riding.

Before leaving, however, the Bingleys and Wickhams must say goodbye to their remaining acquaintances in town. Lady Catherine and her party came to the Ennismore house one last time before beginning their own retreat to the country. 

“I shall miss you, my friend,” Elizabeth told Charlotte.

“And I you. I hope that you will continue to write me regularly with news of your life. You must have someone in your confidence who will provide you with good advice.”

“That can only be you,” Elizabeth assured her. They parted with a kiss on the cheek and words of goodwill.


	13. Chapter 13

It was fine, sunny, late summer morning when the Devonshire party made their exit from London. Mrs. Bennet had been fetched from the country a few days previous and had set herself up comfortably to watch the children. She insisted that Jane and Elizabeth not worry at all, even as Frances and Lucy fought each other nearby for the attention of their grandmama.

At ten o’clock in the morning, eleven people in three carriages met in Portman square, with the intention of traveling together in one large group. Because the Wedgewoods kept no carriage of their own, they three divided themselves amongst friends. Miss Zwick sat with the Bingleys, Mrs. Wedgewood with Mrs. May, and Colonel Wedgewood on horseback with several of the gentlemen. The party was jolly and boisterous and they waved and called out to each other as the carriages circled the park on their way out of town.

At first, Eleanor gave all of her attention outside the windows until the vistas of the city gave way entirely to those of the ordinary country. Then she turned to her hostesses and with little fanfare, told them a bit of gossip she had picked up that morning: Colonel Fitzwilliam had fixed on Miss Crenshaw. The couple was to marry in eight weeks time. The last nail was struck in the coffin. 

The news was conveyed with an even tone and disinterested expression. In this case, Miss Zwick did not look for sympathy and Elizabeth did not offer any. But though she could not speak it, Elizabeth wished Eleanor a very speedy recovery from any remaining disappointment she felt. For the remainder of the ride they spoke only of their expectations for future Devonshire, and not at all of past London.

The journey to Greatfleet was long enough to warrant a night spent on the road. The party was engaged to rest at a large inn favored by Mr. Berklee on his frequent trips to and from town. In exchange for staying overnight, the next day’s travels would be easy—they could expect to reach the manor by noon. Bingley, Darcy, and May were all familiar with the inn already, from past excursions with their friend. Of the ladies, no one was acquainted with the seaside county at all, except the very well traveled Mrs. Wedgewood. Georgiana, it was confirmed, was meeting Sir Hugh and Lady Berklee for the first time. Elizabeth pitied the girl. This was, no doubt, some final test before Mr. James Berklee proposed marriage.

Dinner at the inn was ordered and the party gathered to share it in a dining room that could comfortably hold only a quarter less than their actual number. Elizabeth claimed an unagreeable corner of the small, low room, with Miss Zwick pressed in snug against one side and Jane against the other.

“How cozy,” Mrs. May said, pretending to be cross, but clearly enjoying the unusual intimacy of the setting. Mr. Berklee and Mr. Darcy really did look cross, and poor Miss Darcy would not even come into the room at first, until she was assured that they must all fit. There was no other space available. Her brother fairly crushed himself in his seat so that she could have a few inches of air in the chair closest to the exit. 

“Tell us again about your parent’s estate,” Mrs. May requested, once they were all fixed in place. “Has it a view of the ocean?” 

The small room did have the added advantage of making Mr. Berklee’s low voice more audible. He claimed you could not see the ocean from the house, but that a moderate walk towards the bluffs would furnish it. 

On and on Mrs. May went until she ran out of questions about Greatfleet. Then she would discuss the second most interesting news of the day: Colonel Fitzwilliam’s engagement to Miss Crenshaw. 

“I think eight weeks from now is a rather inconvenient time for a wedding. But I don't suppose many of us will be invited to watch anyway—”

Mrs. May probably would have liked to have gossiped a little more loudly and less kindly, but the presence of Mr. and Miss Darcy moderated her impulse. 

“You always support you cousin in his choices, I suppose?” she went on to ask Mr. Darcy. 

“I have no cause not to. Fitzwilliam and I are of the same mind on most things.”

“You and the Colonel have similar taste in women, then? I hope you won't be falling for a Miss Crenshaw next.” 

Elizabeth would have thought that Darcy would grow sullen or angry with someone talking so forward about something so privy. But instead he answered mildly.

“I am in no danger there.”

Mrs. May nodded approvingly. “Yes, when the time comes, you must find someone who will always come to my dinners. We would hate to lose you also.”

The conversation was interrupted by a sound at the door of a different character than those heard thus far. Through the narrow opening pushed Mr. Edmund Berklee and Bingley’s friend, Mr. Arling, lately arrived together from the road. 

“If there were only one of us I would suffer you all to insist on adding a chair, but by adding two more we shall certainly suffocate,” said Mr. Arling. 

“I will join you, for all our comfort,” said Mr. Berklee, trying to stand. 

“You had better let me go instead,” interrupted Col. Wedgewood. He put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “You are acting as host here to the ladies.”

With that, they were relieved of three bodies. Only Mrs. May objected.

The next morning’s drive was in no way remarkable, except in the abundance of natural beauty on display. Inspired, perhaps, by the cramped dinner, Mrs. May moved herself and Mrs. Wedgewood into the Bingley carriage, pushing Mr. Bingley out with Mr. May. The cozy hours were quickly chatted through.

In Devonshire, the first much anticipated view of Greatfleet came accompanied by general declarations of its excellent appointment and good air. The manor house was seated on a large open plain, surrounded at some distance by fine woodlands. The coast, Mrs. May confirmed aloud, was not visible from where the visitors stood at the front door. But as she exited the coach, Elizabeth noticed something of the feel of salt air and of a cool sea breeze. The smell reminded her that she had not been so near the ocean since her time as a newlywed in Brighton.

“Do you feel that Mrs. Wickham?” Mrs. Wedgewood asked. “I am keen to walk along the sea as we used to, if you will join me. I trust it will bring back happy memories.”

The manor was by appearance an ancient one, with an enormous and equally ancient dog rose that covered the front entry in vines and faded yellow flowers. At some more recent time a modern wing had been added to the west side, and that cleaner, smoother stone glowed in the midday sunlight. Mr. Berklee strode ahead to greet his mother and father before turning to make introductions.

The Sir Hugh and his wife were well made, well kept, well fed, and well met by their sons' friends. Quickly the party was shown in to a sitting room for hot tea. Planting himself in one corner, Sir Hugh fell into conversation with his eldest son and Mr. Darcy only. Lady Berklee attended more generally, but gave Miss Darcy significant consideration, pressing her with questions about her preferences and her comfort during her travels. Miss Darcy was unfailingly polite but was so nervous and sparing in her answers that her friends were obliged to help keep up the conversation. Jane and Mrs. May particularly took pains to fill in when Lady Berklee let it be known that she expected answers. 

Mr. Edmund Berklee saw to the comfort of anyone left out of these conversations—namely Elizabeth, Eleanor, and Mr. Arling.

When tea was finished, the guests were each shown to their quarters. Elizabeth was accommodated in a small room at the far end of a dark hallway in the oldest part of the house. Elizabeth almost laughed when the chamber door was opened: it was a tiny space, barely larger than the small bed squeezed inside; but strangely, the room also possessed a high ceiling and an enormously oversized window filled one wall. Who would build a room that could hardly be gotten into with such an expanse of glass? She wondered if this were once part of the hallway that had been enclosed, with the window meant to light the length of the house. She could in no other way account for the qualities of it.

Elizabeth sat immediately on the little bed—there was no where else to go—and looked out the window. Outside was an attractive flower garden that faded to an open plane. The window looked west, which meant that she must be facing the sea; but the view of the water remained blocked by a tall bluff and the steep cliffs of the oceanfront. The sun was setting and its filtered light put everything in a red hue. Elizabeth pulled the drapes shut and set to changing her clothes and fixing her hair for dinner. 

As soon as her toilette was finished, Elizabeth went in search of Jane, but met instead with Miss Zwick, who was just leaving her own adjacent room. 

"Mrs. Wickham, I am glad you are here," Miss Zwick whispered. “I feel quite in over my head with these fine people. What a day! What a beautiful home!"

Elizabeth drew near in empathy and pat her friend's arm. The Berklee ancestral home had a finely detailed opulence to it and Elizabeth found herself admiring the dark, aged interior of the hall. It smelled of history and hinted at superior breeding. She herself felt too old and experienced to be intimidated by the dignity on display, but in that moment, Eleanor looked very little less distressed than Miss Darcy had. 

"Yes," Elizabeth agreed, "we shall have to be on our best behavior in a house this grand. But our rearing will not fail us, I think.”

Miss Zwick stopped and looked at her. "I admire you, really, Mrs. Wickham. You are so fearless and always do what is needed.”

Elizabeth answered, “I have never seen you fail when pressed.” 

“I do not mean it to sound unkind, but I do hope that I will not be seated too near Sir Hugh and Lady Berklee at dinner tonight. I believe I will feel much more ready to interact with them if I can have an evening of watching and listening first."

Elizabeth nodded. If only such a thing could be done for poor Miss Darcy.


	14. Chapter 14

Dinner the first night at Greatfleet was as formal as expected; Lady Berklee had dressed very finely and commanded a noble air. She had made an effort to provide a very handsome table for her sons' friends which included hiring a French chef for the occasion. Miss Darcy was seated in a place of honor, at her hostesses side, and near to her brother and Mr. Berklee. Elizabeth was some distance away near a happily and similarly neglected Miss Zwick, who kept her word to watch and listen only. 

Mrs. Wedgewood was on Elizabeth's left and not at all cowed by Greatfleet as her younger sister was. It called to Elizabeth’s mind the formal military and state dinners that they had attended together years ago, where Mrs. Wedgewood had once acted as a guide. Before they began eating, the older woman told Elizabeth in a low voice, "Mrs. May's family, the Vromans, kept a French chef when we were young. You will see how happy she is to recognize every sauce and ragout." 

Now, Mrs. Wedgewood had said this with the warmth and affection that Judith May always evoked in her. And Mrs. May did indeed know and announce every dish loudly to the company. Distressingly however, Elizabeth could not help but notice that Lady Berklee rather thought Mrs. May gauche and wished she would acknowledge the dinner with only a common, enthusiastic admiration. As each course was served their hostess looked more and more vexed. It appeared to be ruining her happiness in an altogether very well put together meal. Mrs. May however, did not notice until a rather cutting remark over the dessert finally frightened her into silence.

When dinner finished and the sexes had separated, Lady Berklee took up interviewing Miss Darcy again. Lady Berklee had been worked into some foul mood, and the girl bore it as best she could, but was quickly beat back by question after question. Before long, Miss Darcy had physically pushed her chair back into a wall and was shrunk down within it, for want of space.

“Perhaps we could do with some music?” Jane interrupted. “Miss Darcy is a very talented pianist.”

But Lady Berklee wanted to know more about Derbyshire. 

Elizabeth started a conversation with Mrs. Wedgewood and Miss Zwick to distract from the intense focus on Miss Darcy. They talked of the weather. 

“Miss Darcy is often in the company of her cousins, the Fitzwilliams,” Jane answered again for her young friend.

“Really, Mrs. Bingley, that is enough! I cannot abide interruptions!”

Elizabeth froze and everyone else in the room fell silent when they heard Lady Berklee’s biting tone. Elizabeth noticed later that her hands were shaking; but so surprised was she that anyone would ever scold Jane in that manner, that she sat dumbly until the moment for any protest had passed.

Jane also seemed entirely at a loss for what to do. She apologized but was effectively silenced for the remainder of the night. Miss Darcy thereafter could barely be heard. Mrs. Wedgewood alone spoke a few quiet words. The room was paralyzed until the door opened and Mr. Berklee walked in. The men must take over. The women were shattered.

Mr. Bingley had some sound instinct that led him straight to Jane’s side. Mr. Darcy did the same for his delicate sister. Lady Berklee retreated from her attack. Perhaps she regretted her previous behavior.

Mr. Berklee though, began his time by asking Georgiana if she would play for the assembled party. Georgiana nodded and silently stood. Her nervousness left no room for false modesty; there was no hesitation between being asked and her making her way to the piano at the front of the room. 

Elizabeth worried that Lady Berklee might judge the young woman for this also. And Georgiana's first labored notes put everyone further ill at ease. But by the time the song was over, Lady Berklee had warmed to Georgiana's effort and considerable skill. "Bravo, my dear," she told her. "Who else will take a turn?"

Elizabeth demurred when asked to play; but not wanting to cause strife, offered that she and her sister would read aloud together if entreated again another evening. "But wait until I have found something fitting from your library,” Elizabeth said.

“A tremendous idea! We should make an evening’s entertainment of it tomorrow,” Lady Berklee declared. “My sons are both great readers, but Edmund especially. His strong voice is the reason he was encouraged to go into the law."

"I have not heard him read, but he does have a fine voice,” Elizabeth agreed.

Lady Berklee nodded approvingly.

In those few words to her hostess, Elizabeth felt she had used all her powers of pleasing for the night, and could not stand to try any longer. Soon after, she whispered goodnight to her sister and stole away from the sitting room. 

Sometime during the evening, a storm had blown in, and now as she undressed in her little room, Elizabeth saw the first flashes of lighting brightening the sky in distant, tall clouds. The wind too was whipped up and pushing against the leaky panes of her exaggerated windows. “Really, what a dreadful place this is,” she decided. Then, thinking of the hidden ocean, ”I hope there are no boats caught out there!” 

Very soon the outside was transformed by a rather spectacular lightning storm, which brightened Elizabeth's room through the curtains, while she hid under her pillows. It seemed like lightning was all around the house and would at any time push through the too close panes of glass. Elizabeth could fall asleep only when the storm had calmed. 

***

The next morning dawned clear and blue. The rain clouds that had soaked everything in the night were gone and the puddles were disappearing quickly. The gentlemen celebrated their good luck. After a long London season they were eager to be outside attacking the birds and riding on horses. They left after an early breakfast and promised to not to be seen again until dinnertime.

In the gentlemen's absence, Lady Berklee was an industrious and active hostess. Despite fixing on the idea of a dramatic reading the night before, she could not really bear the idea of being indoors reading when the weather outside was so fine. So instead they were all packed up in carts and taken on a drive to see the ocean. That morning, and for the several days following, Lady Berklee kept all the women entertained through berry picking, picnicking in the gardens, and with long countryside drives. At the first sign of poor weather they would work at the reader's theater, she promised each morning. A tour of the ancient house also would be saved for some inevitable day when it rained.

To everyone’s initial relief, with each day's outing and conversation, Georgiana grew rapidly in Lady Berklee's favor. The older woman seemed very taken with Miss Darcy's delicate manners and the precise way she moved and carried herself. But once it no longer looked as though Georgiana would be flatly rejected by her potential mother-in-law, Elizabeth started cultivating other concerns about the connection. Lady Berklee was not always unpleasant, but Miss Darcy was still easily overwhelmed by the fickle and demanding woman. Once married, Miss Darcy must live in this house. How could the young woman be happy when Lady Berklee had all the power, all the will, and no natural empathy? 

With the rest of the party of ladies, Lady Berklee was not equally impressed. Mrs. Wedgewood, calm and respectable, was the most favored; Miss Zwick and Mrs. Wickham were largely, but politely ignored; Mrs. May could never recover her hostess’s goodwill after the first night—rather, Lady Berklee would take on a look of mortification every time Mrs. May even spoke; and most unbelievably, Jane remained outside of the woman's esteem as well. Lady Berklee responded to every word of Jane’s as if she must beat back a caustic enemy, rather than reply to the sweet, innocent remarks of a good natured woman. It was baffling.

As the sun set late each afternoon, the gentlemen would return, wash, eat dinner with the ladies, and then fall asleep on the couches or play at cards until it was time to retire for the night. Elizabeth kept hoping that Mr. Berklee or Mr. Darcy might recognize something that would incite their concern for Georgiana; but the time in the evenings was either too short or too busy for them to catch Lady Berklee at anything.

With this worser foe in sight, Elizabeth found herself rapidly growing much more hardened to being in Mr. Darcy's close company than she had first imagined she could be. Every night at dinner, the Berklees rotated the guests, so that they would be paired differently each evening. Here in Devon Mr. Darcy appeared much more comfortable in the company of ladies than she could ever remember him being years ago in Hertfordshire. At dinner he was alert always to the needs of his sister; he laughed with Mrs. May; he was courteous in conversation with Mrs. Wedgewood and Miss Zwick; he frequently asked Jane for her opinions on things and even gently suggested that a distracted Mr. Bingley attend his wife when wanted. 

The one exception was with Elizabeth. He was never rude, but with Mrs. Wickham, he was often remote. It was as if he might be afraid, even all these years later, that if he spoke too much or looked too long at Elizabeth, that she might begin screaming again. So though Elizabeth no longer feared Mr. Darcy, she also did not exert herself there. With his sister, however, there was a happy proxy on whom she could work at a peace. And with so many hours together each day, Elizabeth made some progress with the shy woman by using what little means she had to thwart Lady Berklee. On both accounts it was immensely satisfying.

Adding to the general confusion of these first days in Devon was Miss Zwick. It was soon clear to Elizabeth that Eleanor was using this retreat to the country as a chance to recover from Colonel Fitzwilliam and was quite seriously on the hunt for a husband. Elizabeth could not like her timing, but otherwise could not fault either her motivations or her methods. Eleanor singled no one out, but resolvedly sought to engage each of the unmarried men in conversation when possible.

One evening, after dinner, the guests assembled in the sitting room. Miss Zwick was testing her skills on Mr. Arling and Mr. Edmund Berklee, the other gentlemen presently being in the baronet’s study. Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. May retreated into a corner of the room, as they now regularly did out of some sense of shame. Elizabeth sat with her sister as she preferred, but sometimes took pity on Mrs. Wedgewood who was forever stuck in the task of entertaining Lady Berklee. Miss Darcy sat at the piano, content to hide behind the task of playing, until Lady Berklee called across the room

“Oh no, not that tedious song again. I despise Soler. Play something else—an Irish air perhaps, or something of Haydn’s.“

Jane’s face fell. She turned to her sister and Mrs. May and whispered. “Poor dear,” she said referring to Georgiana. “That was her mother’s favorite song.” Miss Darcy looked as though she might cry at the words, but of course she said nothing. Lady Berklee either did not notice or did not care to wonder why. 

Mrs. May wanted to move; but fearing that it would make things worse, Elizabeth halted her and went herself to the piano to lend her support. She sat on the piano bench and turned the pages on some sonata, while Georgiana worked her way tearfully through the piece. Lady Berklee and Mrs. Wedgewood continued to talk mindlessly of gardening. 

Georgiana was coming to the end of the work when the door opened and the remaining gentlemen entered the room. Mr. Darcy, as he always did, came to sit on a sofa near his sister. 

“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth wondered loudly. She could tell this surprised him, when she saw him start. “Georgiana must decide what to play next. Do you have a favorite artist?”

“I have an affection for Soler,” he replied. 

Elizabeth had no time to celebrate since Lady Berklee looked as though she would interrupt. So Elizabeth hurried on, speaking over her. “What an interesting choice. Have you a particular reason for it?”

Darcy’s brow folded in confusion. Just barely, he brought his eyes up to meet Elizabeth’s. “He was my mother’s favorite. She brought his sheet music back from the continent after her honeymoon. We frequently heard it throughout my childhood.” 

Lady Berklee made a little noise of exclamation. From the back corner of the room, Elizabeth also heard Arling fall into a fit of coughing. So be it; he at least knew what she had done.

***

As it happened, Lady Berklee also knew what Elizabeth had done. The next morning Elizabeth found herself as much a pariah as Mrs. May or Jane. ‘But with much better reason,’ she told herself, not at all regretful.

That evening, before dinner, Miss Darcy brought Elizabeth a pretty little package wrapped up in paper. Miss Darcy asked her to open it, and inside, Elizabeth found a nice bit of handiwork done for a young child. “It is a gift for your Lucy," Miss Darcy explained.

"Oh! It is so neat and pretty. Thank you!"

“It is nothing really. I am working on another. I hope to have it done by the end of the week. I am...I am only happy that you like it.”

Later that same night, Miss Zwick asked to play opposite Georgiana at cards. "To see what you are made of," Eleanor teased the girl.

Mr. Darcy would play also, and needing a fourth for the group, Elizabeth was recruited by Miss Darcy to be her partner. Miss Darcy asked so nicely, and since Mr. Darcy acted indifferent to her presence, Elizabeth finally agreed. While they settled in, Miss Darcy said something surprisingly arch. Demurely she turned to Elizabeth and said, “Miss Zwick and my brother think that they are very clever to have each other as partner. But they are much mistaken if they believe that ensures them the game against the likes of us."

Elizabeth laughed in surprise. "Quite right!“ she turned to warn their opponents, “Miss Darcy is shrewd and I am lucky. You will have to do better than clever to take us!" 

The game was close, but the final hand ended decidedly in favor of Elizabeth and Georgiana.

“That was nicely done!” Elizabeth assured the younger girl, who looked proud, but would not say anything to acknowledge it.

"Never trust a quiet woman," Miss Zwick cried, gesturing at Miss Darcy.

"Or anyone who calls themselves lucky," Mr. Darcy added dryly. 

Georgiana had clung somewhat to Elizabeth’s side throughout the night. But worried about Lady Berklee’s moods and her lingering hard looks, Elizabeth declined to play again and turned her seat over to Mr. James Berklee. Georgiana was enlivened by her first victory and was very ready to try and win again with her new partner. When Miss Zwick and Mr. Darcy lost a second time, the former threw up her hands and declared that for the sake of her pride, she must be Georgiana's partner for a third round.

"Forgive me Miss Darcy, for I was far too hurried to try my wits against you," she teased Georgiana. "I promise that I shall not willingly be your opponent again."

"Bingley, you had better come over here and loose with Berklee," Mr. Darcy said, standing from his chair. "But do it gallantly—the ladies both have something to prove."

Georgiana and Eleanor both objected. “Fitzwilliam that is unfair!” “No sir, do not go!”

"You are both right. I am an unkind brother who has been trounced twice by my little sister. That deserves a cup of punch for each of you." He brought them each a glass, delivered as they began the round. He then offered the same to Jane, Elizabeth, and Mrs. May, who were sitting together on the nearest sofa; and after making that delivery, he got his own, and sat adjacent to the ladies, beside the younger Mr. Edmund Berklee. 

"When do you return to Bristol?" Mr. Darcy asked the young man.

"I expect a letter in the next week or two calling me back. Mr. Reid, the barrister I am training with, has been lately in Scotland with his wife. He sends me tasks from time to time—clients to visit or letters to write, but it has been a quiet August. This autumn, I think, will find me considerably less at my leisure." 

"You fill your days with reading?" Elizabeth asked.

"As much as I can," Berklee, gestured with the book of law in his hand. "If Mr. Reid can spare me, I will spend the whole of winter in London again reading at the inns of court, rather than traveling back and forth to Bristol." 

"Are you very near to finishing your training?"

"I should be pleased if I were called to the bar in the next twenty-four months, and  _ very _ happy indeed if it were in the next twelve. My mentor talks of taking fewer cases, and I would like to be able to step in before someone else begins to pick them up." 

Lady Berklee took a natural interest in her son's life, and wanting her share of the conversation she called the men over to the other side of the room. Freed of the need to talk, Elizabeth listened in from where she sat until, catching herself yawning, she thought it best to excuse herself early for bed. 

"Goodnight, dear Jane," she whispered to her sister.

Jane smiled back and squeezed her hand. 


	15. Chapter 15

After the evening of cards, Elizabeth fell asleep quickly and awoke, not to the dim pink of morning, but to the great flash and crackle of another terrific storm approaching Greatfleet from the West. She had no clock in her room, but knew it to be very late.

"Heavens, not again," she thought, feeling her heart pound. Elizabeth moved quickly, dressing in her discarded gown, and marching into the hallway, away from the vulnerable window and the menacing gale. Elizabeth was relieved to see candles lit and hear voices still reverberating from the sitting room. She peaked through the door, scanning for either Jane or Mrs. Wedgewood.

It was Mr. Arling who spotted Elizabeth. "You're too late. The gowns've all retired for the night."

"Pardon me. I had hoped that some of the ladies would still be present." 

"It's alright dear," said Bingley, gesturing. "You are very welcome to stay. We are playing at cards, but with Darcy and Berklee here, all our conversation is quite fit for ladies."

Berklee gave no visible indication that he had heard Bingley’s words, but Darcy responded to them by scowling down at his cards. Or possibly it was Elizabeth herself that he was scowling at. 

"I could sit with Jane instead—"

Bingley shook his head. "It's no good. She's been asleep this past hour at least." 

Elizabeth knew as well as Bingley that no storm would wake Jane if she were already asleep. So instead of cowering alone in her own room, Elizabeth picked up a book and made to sit on a nearby couch. She chose her spot with an eye towards being forgotten—close enough to not draw attention, but not so close that she must be included in the conversation. 

Playing at cards were Mr. Bingley, Mr. Berklee, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Arling, and Mr. May. Gone, to sleep were Sir Hugh, Col. Wedgewood and Mr. Edmund Berklee. 

"Are storms like this entirely normal for this part of the country?" Mr. Bingley asked, after a very near and loud crash shook the room around them.

"Normal enough," Mr. Berklee assured him. "It will not last. The clouds race through here and do not tarry."

"With wind like that, I should think not,” Mr. May said, calling attention to the shrieking sound. Then turning to Elizabeth, he asked, "You are not afraid of a little storm, I hope?" He was ready to laugh at her.

“I could scarce credit that from someone so bold,” countered Arling. 

"The sound woke me and I could not sleep again," she explained. Then, because she felt the need to defend her courage. ”I watched the last storm from my room. With the sky and the trees so alight, it was a very beautiful scene. It was very…picturesque." 

“Beautiful but not comforting,” interpreted Mr. Darcy.

“Well,” said Elizabeth surprised, “I think the picturesque can give one comfort. It reminds one that the scale of the world is not confined to just us—I think that I would despair if that were so. But you are right, it is also overwhelming, or I would still be in bed, instead of sitting here."

Embarrassed, she turned back to her book.

“Sister Wickham, you will be interested in this," Bingley said a little later, rousing her. Elizabeth had not been attending and needed him to repeat the premise.

"But tell me," Mr. Arling asked Bingley, while looking in Elizabeth's direction, "what is Mrs. Wickham's expertise in the Canadian Provinces?"

Elizabeth interrupted. "Only that I read a book once and told my brother about it. Is that what you are speaking of? Bingley is enamored. Those colonies do have an interesting history."

"Darcy was telling us that his new gardener hails from there."

Elizabeth nodded. ”What a strange journey! From the wilds of the Canadas to those of Derbyshire.” As she spoke the words, Elizabeth worried that the comment could be misconstrued. But ere long Darcy spoke himself.

"No stranger than the man himself," Darcy mused. "But his vision for landscape and knowledge of plants is superb. For that I put up with his beaver fur hats and other eccentricities."

Elizabeth thought a moment, then spoke again. "I have heard those hats are much admired in France. Perhaps he is only just very stylish?" 

“You should ask him to bring you one Darcy! Make it a Derbyshire style,” said Mr. May, amusing himself.

When Berklee and Arling both laughed aloud at this, it seemed very much at Mr. Darcy's expense.

"What more can you tell us about the Canadas, my lady?" Mr. Arling asked after they had settled. 

"Only that they are very large and often very cold. I do wonder at a gardener learning much about plants in a place so frozen; but perhaps that is all exaggerated." 

"I will report back to you. I am due to travel there this coming spring,” Mr. Arling said.

“Truly?” She sat up. “What is your destination?" 

"A small shipping town called Quebec City. I believe I will bring Darcy that beaver hat."

"And one for yourself, I hope."

"Of course."

***

Mr. Arling and Elizabeth spoke briefly, but with pleasure that night. The gentleman had not much captured Elizabeth's attention before, but during their second week in Devon, he seemed increasingly in her line of site. 

Elizabeth knew from previous meetings that Arling had an enthusiastic eye. He seemed constantly on the lookout—not for danger, as he might have done in a more primeval time—but here in England, in a manor house or a ballroom, he looked for novelty. New people, interesting people, people of strong character or of unusual histories, he tirelessly sought them all out.

“He makes you feel like quite the most interesting person when he sets his gaze on you,” Bingley once told Elizabeth. 

At dinner the following evening, Arling was seated to Elizabeth’s left and entertained her with stories of his time in school with the other gentlemen. 

"Ask me anything at all,” he insisted, in a low voice. He looked strategically around the table, drawing Elizabeth’s gaze from face to face. "I am your willing source on these refine men in their unpolished youth. I know much to compromise. Not indiscretions mind—I will speak of nothing so salacious as that. But tales of awkwardness and vulgarity I know plenty, and I will share happily. You need only ask.”

"Sir, I cannot!" Elizabeth said affecting seriousness. She was happy to be amused, but very much did not want to temp Lady Berklee’s wrath is she overheard anything about her sons that upset her. 

"Is it because you do not want to share your own stories of your youth?"

Elizabeth shook her head and laughed. "I would be happy to tell you tales of my precocious refinement and beauty, but I refuse to be blamed for asking about others during that vulnerable years. I have heard,” she paused for effect, “that some people feel embarrassed or ashamed during that time."

He turned away with a show of mock disgust. Then, to her alarm he said in a louder voice, ”Mrs. Wickham will not ask me any questions. What about you, Mrs. Bingley? I am sure you would like to know more about your husband as a half grown lad, competing with other boys for the love of his teachers, and status amongst his peers?"

Jane was happy to know anything about Bingley, but like her sister, she would not hear anything that might compromise anyone else. 

Arling fell back as if dealt a blow. “Bah, then I cannot help you! By the time I met Bingley, all these men were complicit in any interesting happenings." Arling pantomimed defeat, but followed immediately with a tale anyway. He shared with the table how a group of young men from school went one night to see a famous soprano sing at a London theater. 

"When the concert was finished we all waited outside the hall to try and meet the lady as she left. It was a silly gesture—the sort of thing that very young fellows do with their friends. There were other men there who even brought the lady flowers. But out of the crowd of admirers, who did the woman notice? No one but Bingley and that goofy grin of his. He was the only one whose words she responded to; and when she did, it was to smile, pat him atop the head, and tell him that if he came back the next night she would find him a treat, but that presently she had given her last to a shepherd dog and had no more on her person."

Elizabeth was too surprised to laugh but Arling and Bingley roared at the memory.

"That is true," Bingley admitted. "I was too much the puppy for a sophisticated woman of the world like Miss Elizabeth Tatton.”

"That was it! I had forgotten her name. I tell you, I never saw anyone look so confused as Bingley did when she said that. Someone had to tell him what she meant. The pup thought it might have been a compliment."

“You are speaking of the theater?” Lady Berklee interrupted from across the table. “We must discuss when we will have our readers theater. We are running out of time.”

***

After dinner, when everyone had assembled in the drawing room, Mr. Arling pressed Elizabeth again. “Just because you would not hear my stories, does not mean that I do not want to hear yours. Share with us something interesting!” 

The two were partners in a game of cards against Miss Zwick and Miss Darcy. “A story without a context is a poor thing,” she tutted him. “We must discuss some topic and hope that I have something interesting to say about it.”

Arling laughed more than the statement deserved. 

“Can I get any of you some punch to drink?” interrupted Edmund Berklee. He had been sitting nearby, perhaps waiting to be into the game. “Mrs. Wickham? Miss Darcy? Miss Zwick?”

“Thank you, but no,” Elizabeth told him. The punch in Greatfleet was always strong, and she did not want to over imbibe.

After the game had ended, Arling and Elizabeth gave up their seats to Edmund Berklee and Col. Wedgewood and retreated to a nearby couch to continue talking. “I am glad the you enjoyed my story earlier about Bingley. I hope that Mrs. Bingley did not mind it.”

“She was very much amused. And it was nothing to be ashamed of, after all.”

“And did you mind my questions just now? It is not easy to tell what you are thinking.”

“Not at all sir. And I am sorry if my conversation is lacking.”

“I do not find it so,” he refuted. “Rather, I see that you are always watching the room, but you say nothing about its inhabitants.”

“These are my sister and brother’s friends. I am still getting to know them.”

“Even still?” he accused. “Mrs. May would not like to hear you say that. But since you claim to look at us with the clear eyes of an outsider, tell me: what do you think of Miss Darcy and Mr. Berklee?”

Elizabeth peaked around the room in alarm. It did not seem like a circumspect conversation given their central location. Both those people and their nearest relations were nearby.

“I can think of no reason why it should not be an excellent match,” she said evenly.

“Can you not? Perhaps you do not know that Mr. Berklee and Mr. Darcy did not get along in school.”

Elizabeth was surprised to hear this.

Arling shook his head. Then, mercifully lowering his voice so that only she could hear, he explained, “The entire time we were all at Eton, Darcy and James Berklee were committed rivals. Darcy, it will not surprise you, often butted heads with other boys. He took exception to silliness and sloth, with all boys who got in trouble, and especially with boys who got the rest of us in trouble. Which is why I always thought it strange that Berklee annoyed him most of all. Berklee was none of those things—he was instead, the only boy at school more serious than Darcy. But maybe that is why they only needed Bingley to bring them together. Bingley can’t dislike anyone, and neither Berklee nor Darcy were willing to give him up after meeting him.”

Elizabeth giggled a little, in amusement, but also because such blatant gossiping must be kept light in tone.

“I was a year younger than the rest of the lads here, and not at Cambridge yet to witness the coming of Bingley. So when I met them again a year later I was utterly knocked off my feet to see them all intimate together. But I was soon around Bingley, and witnessed his miraculous work myself. He did not make Berklee or Darcy better or more agreeable people mind you, but he did allow them to sit in a room with each other without their considerable egos starting a fight.”

“My goodness,” Elizabeth said. “I have never heard their friendship described so.”

“Only Bingley could allow for a Darcy/Berklee marriage.” Then, eyeing the room, Arling nodded to direct Elizabeth’s attention. “We spoke of puppies earlier tonight, but see, we have some of our own, running about,” he noted.

Elizabeth glanced to see who he meant. It was an animated Miss Zwick in conversation with Mr. Darcy.

“Perhaps he will marry again when his sister leaves the house. Miss Zwick is too young to be really interesting; but that makes her ideal for him.”

“Sir!” Elizabeth protested.

“Forgive me, Mrs. Wickham. Not all that is true is kind and I should know better,” he said looking shamed. Then, changing the subject, “your friend Mrs. Wedgewood says that the two of you met in Newcastle. Perhaps you will tell me about that town?” 

“And what has Mrs. Wedgewood already told you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone! I don't know how people normally find betas or editors, but if anyone would be interested in reading a chapter or two ahead of time and offering comments, I would be grateful to try that. Enjoy your week!


	16. Chapter 16

When the sun rose fresh and clear again on their eighth day, Lady Berklee proposed that the ladies all ride out together with the gentlemen. The hunting was slowing and Mr. Berklee had previously announced that he would bring out his famed racing horse, Walmsley, to exhibit. Mrs. May, Miss Darcy, and Lady Berklee were all great horsewomen and were eager for the more substantive exercise. Jane also was an accomplished rider and Mrs. Wedgewood was competent thanks to ongoing lessons from her husband. But Miss Zwick, Elizabeth was told, had no greater skill or experience than herself; which was far too little for a day in the saddle on rough terrain. They must sit at home or walk the gardens perhaps. Eleanor seemed only just too polite to grieve out loud.

But no, Mr. Edmund Berklee protested, there were two sweet tempered ponies in the stables that his sister’s children used when they visited. It was no great thing to ride on a gentle horse with a good teacher. 

When Mr. Arling heard the plan he put himself forward as an ideal instructor. He had taught four sisters and all their friends to ride, he said. Nothing could be easier. Mr. Edmund Berklee wanted to help also, but was discouraged when Mr. Arling insisted there was no need for two gentleman to give up the day's pleasures. So when the party of accomplished riders set off into the park, Edmund Berklee went with them. Elizabeth and Miss Zwick were left behind with two ponies, a groom, and a solicitous Mr. Arling with his own great hunter.

"Goodness! What a creature your Mr. Arling rides!" said Eleanor, eyes wide at the first sight of it.

Arling’s horse was enormous. Almost too large for sport. Elizabeth’s own little pony was laughably small in comparison, but, she told herself, rather less intimidating now.

“Don’t let Sewards frighten you,” Arling bade them, as he gave the horse a firm pat on the flank. “He’s a good horse when he’s not trying to sneak back home.” 

Very soon, each woman was lifted up and instructed by a solicitous Mr. Arling with a keen eye and gentle hints. Elizabeth found he was right in saying that he knew how to teach a woman to ride. His suggestions were fruitful. Her lack of skill on a horse was entirely her own failing, she shared while they worked. Jane was taught by a young man so that she could ride out on Sundays with him. Elizabeth had never had such inspiration. Eleanor claimed that no young women in her village rode, so she had never thought it important to learn. Mr. Arling scoffed affably at them both. "But look how quickly you have picked it up. And all these years spent walking—wasted!"

"Rather, you've earned the right to be called a very good teacher. But I think that you knew that." 

When the little ponies were easily guided around the yard and Mr. Arling declared himself happy enough with their seats, he suggested that they go on an easy trot up a nearby hill where they could look for the rest of the riders. Elizabeth was asked to lead the way. Eleanor followed. Mr. Arling took the rear.

"Keep her head up, Miss Zwick," he instructed as they rode, "or she will start on the grass again."

"I am sorry! It seems cruel to keep her from it when there is so much around."

"There,” Mr. Arling said coming up next to the ladies when they reached the peak, "I can see May and Bingley in the shade over to the west." He pointed to where a crooked tree cast a shadow on the border of the open plain.

"And there are several of the ladies coming up from the stream bed," Elizabeth added, gesturing farther to the left.

"Wave to your friends," Arling told them, raising his own arm high. "I think they will be quite proud to see us all traveled so far."

"Perhaps if we were children,” Elizabeth said, but doing the same. She smiled to see Jane and Bingley both return the gesture in ernest. 

***

"That was such fun!" Eleanor declared when they were back at the manor. Mr. Arling had returned the novices safely to the house and then was gone again with his great horse to have his bit of fun with the better riders. No one else had returned yet, so Elizabeth and Eleanor sat with their tea—a tete-a-tete had in comfortable privacy. 

"Thank you for learning along with me Mrs. Wickham. I am not at all sure that I would have been brave enough to get up on a horse or to spend so long with _your_ Mr. Arling without you being there as well."

"I very much enjoyed learning to ride with you;” Elizabeth agreed, “but that is the second time I have heard you refer to Mr. Arling that way, and I assure you that he is nothing of the sort." 

It must have taken Eleanor a moment to realize what Elizabeth had meant, but soon her face flushed pink. "Oh, I am terribly sorry. It is just that he appears interested in you. And you seem to like him also—“

"Thank you, Eleanor, but as Mr. Arling well knows, it is not a serious thing. He is only bored while he is here. It is his habit to look for lonely women. And I am not lonely."

"My word!" Miss Zwick was alarmed. "That seems unkind!"

Elizabeth took a sip of her tea. "He is not unkind and neither am I. Rather, we widows must make sure that we are understood by gentlemen like Mr. Arling.”

"Then you have the advantage of me. I saw nothing of it."

“I do not mean it as a rebuke to you,” Elizabeth insisted. “I only thought you should know, so that you would not misunderstand what you see. It is not your fault you have never met a man of his sort.” 

Eleanor turned physically away from her friend. It took a minute of silent tea drinking before she was ready to respond. “I thought everyone here was a person of quality, and that you and Mr. Arling were engaging respectably. But if you say you are not, I suppose I must turn to Miss Darcy as my model and her good Mr. Berklee.” 

“You may,” Elizabeth conceded. Then, because she was a little annoyed, she added, “But remember, Miss Darcy won Mr. Berklee because she is rich and respectable. That is not a very easy model to imitate. Nor is Miss Darcy very much like you in character that you could be happy in her place or in her courtship. You would do better to learn from your sister and her happy union.”

“Army men are not everything—”

“They are not. There doctors, lawyers, and respectable tradesmen who might all make good partners for a woman in your place. You must study a man’s character to know. Do not blind yourself to a man’s preferences or failures.”

From Eleanor’s mute response and blank face, Elizabeth knew that she had spoken too candidly this afternoon. And so rather heavy-handedly she turned the subject to the room’s elegant oak furniture.

***

Though she had not spent long on the pony that morning, Elizabeth was aching and tired at dinner that evening. Eleanor was quick to escape to the company of other people once the rest of the party returned home, but Elizabeth saw that she too squirmed in her chair and made casual mention of how sore the riding had left her. No one else looked nearly so exhausted. 

Elizabeth took a glass of wine to ease her discomfort and was soon droopy eyed and warm. She sat quietly, listening, and reseating herself when she sank too far down into her plush dinner chair. Lady Berklee no longer took much pains to rearrange the table for dinners, at least for the women. Elizabeth was once again near the table’s foot with Mrs. May and Jane for company. Further up, Miss Zwick was singled out to be seated next to Miss Darcy and her brother. Eleanor looked to be using all of her powers of pleasing on both the siblings.

Elizabeth watched Eleanor awhile, but could hardly stay surprised that the girl should attack instead of retreating. Eleanor was still young and headstrong, and after all, why shouldn’t she try for a rich gentleman. Elizabeth had no hurt feelings; her advice on gentlemen was meant to caution Eleanor; and more importantly, to thwart the start of any rumors about herself and Mr. Arling. And freely given, her advice could also be freely ignored. Perhaps, after all, it was too severe. It was not her place to keep Eleanor from learning what she could about love from another girl of twenty.

“I think that your brother-in-law has caught the bug,” Arling said, interrupting her thoughts. He was seated across the way from Elizabeth.

She shook her head. What did he mean?

“That stallion of Berklee’s—the racer. Bingley was smitten today. Mark my word, he’ll be racing horses in a year’s time.”

Elizabeth looked over where Berklee and Bingley, were talking together. Arling was correct—Bingley looked excited by whatever they were talking of. 

"I am declaring it officially the end of summer," Mr. Arling spoke again. "Everyone here is all about their plans for the winter now. What are yours, Mrs. Wickham?"

“Modest.” Elizabeth described them. “Jane and I will return to Hertfordshire, to enjoy the season in the country."

"You have several other sisters, do you not."

Elizabeth confirmed that this was true. Mr. Arling wanted to know the particulars: were they older, younger, married? "And what of their husbands. Are they so genial as Bingley?" Mr. Arling asked. 

"I am fond of all my sisters' husbands," Elizabeth told him, exaggerating perhaps. "Lydia's I admit, I do not know well—but he seems a very decent gentlemen. They met and married while I was still living in Scotland," she explained, "and they have only come back to visit once. His Navy commission keeps him away much of the time. But what of yourself? You have four sisters, yourself, do you not? Will you see any of them this winter?"

Arling could not say. "The eldest Patricia, certainly—she is married to my cousin, Lord Conyngham and I am invited to stay with them at their estate in Sussex next month. For the others, I will trust my mother that she will see us all together in the same place soon."

***

That night, Elizabeth had intended to sleep right away after returning early to her room. But once alone, she let her busy mind be distracted by a book until very late in the night. 

It was for this reason that she was awake to be disturbed by the sounds of laughing voices in the hallway, long after she had supposed everyone else in the house asleep. It was Eleanor and Georgiana. She heard them hush each other in the hall, then the click of a door and the rusting of movement on the other side of the wall. Elizabeth judged the time to be between two and three in the morning. The two ladies giggled, quietly, then loudly, then more quietly again as drawers were opened and closed. Then came the sound of the door latch once more, and finally, the fading of the voices as the ladies walked away. They were gone to Georgiana's room, no doubt. Elizabeth pulled her blanket tighter. She was alone once again in her little corner of the big house.


	17. Chapter 17

If Lady Berklee were to be believed, her fondest wish came true the next morning when the sun rose behind a thick curtain of slow moving rain clouds. The damp was still not enough to keep the gentlemen from hunting during the day; the ladies, however, were obligated to give up the outdoors, cram in together, and set about searching the library for proper oratory material for a long awaited evening of dramatic reading.

They all must participate, Lady Berklee had decided. No one was allowed to wallow in the audience. The women would do the hard work of preparing everything during the day so that the men could simply take up their parts upon returning. Sir Hugh looked put out even over this little inconvenience, and amongst the guests, Miss Zwick and Mrs. May's genuine interest in the activity only partially hid how little Miss Darcy was pleased by this plan. Her immoderate fear of public speaking left Elizabeth wondering how Mr. Berklee could unhesitantly allow his mother to insist on these plans. He must not comprehend the magnitude of her distress.

During a dim breakfast, Elizabeth leaned over to Miss Darcy and Miss Zwick. "Perhaps we could find a scene with a large cast? Something that we could all do together?" Elizabeth reasoned that with most of the group on stage, and with correspondingly few people in the audience, Georgiana might be more at ease. But neither young woman answered her inquiry with much enthusiasm.

Finding anything so specific in the library turned out to be a tall order anyway. 

"I can't make out how the shelves are organized," Eleanor admitted quietly, some time into their dusty search. 

"Nor I," Jane agreed, pushing back books of old law. 

"I've begun pulling any drama that I come across. Which is not many," Elizabeth admitted, holding three slim folios. They found a handful more, and a volume of epic poetry, Elizabeth thought might do in a pinch, and with these in hand retired to the sitting room they used most often in the evenings.

"Here Georgiana,” said Miss Zwick, “this is a scene for two women and two men. We could invite your brother and Mr. Berklee to read with us."

Lady Berklee, who had rejoined the party, gave Eleanor’s plan her blessing. With some negotiation, it was eventually decided that there would be five readings given that evening. Mrs. Berklee would work with her husband and her younger son. Mrs. Wedgewood and the Colonel would read as a pair. Mrs. May had something in mind right away for herself and her husband (which earned her a scowl from Lady Berklee for it being a memorized piece rather than something from the library). That left Jane, Bingley, Elizabeth, and Mr. Arling to make up the final grouping. 

And so, with their selections made, they must practice upon a little stage-like platform erected in the parlor.

Eleanor, to her credit, did not despair when she first heard Georgiana read. The passage was from a serious drama, which Elizabeth hoped would suit the shy woman. But Georgiana made it sound like a tragedy—when you could hear her at all.

When Miss Darcy began to read her part, Mrs. Wedgewood, with one of her efficient comprehensive glances, recognized right away what was needed and immediately lured Lady Berklee out of the room. Elizabeth gave thanks for that small miracle. 

“Bravo everyone—a good start," Jane said, when they had run through the lines for the first time. "But let’s come and sit for a while in these chairs. It is a much more comfortable way to practice."

Miss Darcy could find no words until she was safely seated on a sofa, facing opposite so that she could no longer see the dreaded stage. She was sweating and red. "I know it was terrible,” she admitted. “There is no reason that reading should be different than playing the piano, but I am infinitely more nervous doing this."

"If you had as many hours spent reading aloud as you do playing upon the piano, I dare say the opposite would be true," Jane assured her. "Fortunately, any time spent in performance of one type must still positively impact another. You will feel perfectly comfortable enough by this evening.”

Jane had a talent for both drama and unfounded assurances, and took up the role of coach. "Eleanor, I noticed that you gave nice pauses when you were reading. I thought that was very dramatic and will help when the gentlemen finally take their parts. And Georgiana, I quite liked how sad the middle lines seemed when you read them. I think that you could do even more of that." 

At the end of an hour's rehearsal, Georgiana had warmed slightly and could be heard faintly even from the rear of the room; they would practice again in the afternoon, after a period of rest.

Jane and Elizabeth retreated in the elder's room.

“Should we read through our own part?" Jane asked, without enthusiasm.

“I am too exhausted to try,” Elizabeth complained, falling onto the bed..

Also, unspoken, was the problem of looking too polished in comparison to the other readers. In their group Bingley was rather a better dramatist than might be guessed and Jane was practically brilliant. Elizabeth judged herself competent. Only Mr. Arling was unknown, and there was no reason to believe that he would be unequal to the job.

“Though it was probably wrong of us to take him into our group of outcasts. I shouldn’t be surprised if we were hissed offstage tonight, or denied entry outright,” said Elizabeth. “Mrs. May also should be prepared for the possibility.” 

“Heavens no! Judith is very excited about tonight’s amusement! And Lady Berklee said she wanted everyone to exhibit!” Jane would not hear words said in a foul mood, even if they were true.

"I can not make out if Miss Zwick is helping or hurting with that silly voice of hers,” Elizabeth continued. Eleanor had, during the hour of practice, developed a particular voice for her character, adding humor to the otherwise serious scene. She would rather have done a comedy.

"Helping I think," Jane answered. "Perhaps Georgiana will surprise herself.”

“I have had a thought, though it has come to me quite late,” Elizabeth told Jane. "What if Miss Darcy agreed to play accompaniment for all the readings tonight? Perhaps if she were up on the stage all along, it would lessen her nervousness when it came time to actually read. Mrs. May could take over the piano during the time when Miss Darcy must act. And then, at the very least she will have the chance to do something that she is really very good at."

Jane sighed, almost defeated. "Let's suggest it. I do desperately want her to be proud of herself after this exercise is complete." 

Elizabeth did not say what she thought the chances of that were.

***

Georgiana's final performance was not her best. She had given several, rather superior renditions of the lines with only the ladies present earlier that afternoon. But the plan to have her play piano turned out to be a good one. Miss Darcy's deft choices of accompaniment made the entire theatrical experience better, and mitigated any shortcomings in her reading voice. 

And what of the other performances that evening? 

Mrs. May and her husband turned out the most successful reading—a silly little love scene, done earnestly. Elizabeth was moved. After that came Lord and Lady Berklee and their younger son reading from Milton. Elizabeth felt generous enough to sincerely applaud. 

Performed with no practice whatsoever, Jane and Elizabeth's skit was rougher than either anticipated. Jane was easily the best of all the evening's readers, but the lack of preparation caused Mr. Arling to skip a page and double back, leaving Jane to read the same lines over again to reestablish the narrative.

“Mrs. Bingley, you must accept my apologies,” said Mr. Arling afterwards. “My blundering with the pages tripped us both.”

“No sir, it was my own fault. Or rather, it was no one’s fault. That sort of mistake is bound to happen.” 

Elizabeth had been ready to make a little joke, when she was interrupted by the voice of Lady Berklee, talking to her husband and eldest son.

“Don’t anyone dare criticize Mrs. Bingley’s group. She won’t hear of it!”

Like two quick jabs of a pin, Elizabeth felt the insult intended with each sentence. The words were not said loudly enough for everyone to hear, but Elizabeth’s and Mr. Arling’s eyes met.

Lady Berklee went on. “I might tell my own sons, of course, that they should have practiced more; but it is really on the women to have better prepared their groups.”

“And what a good job you ladies have all done, with only one day’s time to ready everything,” came Darcy’s forceful voice, from where he stood nearby. 

Lady Berklee was shaken. “You are too kind, sir.”

Elizabeth moved away to an opposite corner to sit in while the last act was performed. “Let that woman not say anything more!” Elizabeth prayed, lest she be unequal to controlling her anger. Already Elizabeth was unable to give any attention to Mrs. Wedgewood and her selection.

“It simply wasn’t what I had hoped,” Lady Berklee lamented about the evening, when all the readings were finished. 

Elizabeth made a barely civil exit. 

***

Later that night, Elizabeth sat in her sister's room, complaining aloud. Having worked her way painfully through nearly every interaction with Lady Berklee, Elizabeth had moved on to finding fault with the rest of the party. More than a week in such close company as they all were, had now begun to feel rather long. Tonight, it provoked her to remember that Mrs. May constantly complained of her husband and his habits. It provoked her that Col. Wedgewood insisted the party play cards so often. It provoked her even to witness Miss Darcy and Mr. Berklee play at their shy, regal courtship.

"You will be, of course, to kind to have noticed, and I too much her friend to point out Eleanor's pedantic discussion of literature during dinner tonight. She can't like a novel! How insufferably stupid." 

"Mr. Darcy, I think, was teasing her. She misunderstood and was only trying not to offend him."

"Which was insufferably stupid of him as well. He ought to be more civil. It leads everyone to doing and saying regrettable things."

"Regrets in life can hardly be avoided. But perhaps," Jane ventured, "you should find some time to yourself tomorrow. There has been near constant activity now, for many days.”

Elizabeth huffed. "You are saying that I must sit alone if I cannot behave myself in company," Elizabeth interpreted Jane's words. She stretched her arms angrily. "And you are right, of course."

"Can I brush your hair out?" Jane offered. She stood behind her younger sister and with soothing fingers worked Elizabeth's hair to a satiny smoothness. "Our time here is nearly done. I wrote my mother today to say that we would be on the road after breakfast, two days hence. By this time next week we will be back in Hertfordshire for a quiet winter."

"I am longing for the children. And even more to have them with us in the country next week. It will be a good change of air after everything."

Jane agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to justdreaming88 for reading through this before I posted!


	18. Chapter 18

Elizabeth was thinking of her children again the next morning, when she took her sister’s wise advice and went outside for an early walk. It was a gray dawn, but as soon as Elizabeth inhaled a deep breath of cool morning air, she felt heartened. 

Tomorrow the Bingley carriage would be packed up tight and back on its way to London. If she were lucky, it might be only Jane and herself in their carriage—if Eleanor and Leah could be convinced to ride with Mrs. May and if Bingley decided to go on horseback again. 

Elizabeth had started her walk in the little sunken garden outside her window and was now making her way towards the tree-lined avenue. She had not gotten far before she spotted no less than two gentlemen coming towards her from the opposite side of the house. It was Mr. Arling and Mr. Darcy walking together.

“Good morning,” she greeted them both. She hoped in vain that they would waive her on, but Mr. Arling slowed to talk with her.

“Good morning to you,” Arling said. “What a pleasant surprise. I thought all the ladies were still sleeping at this hour; or at least still sitting in their rooms.”

“Which I was until very recently.”

“May we accompany you wherever you are going?” Mr. Arling asked. 

‘What rotten luck,’ she thought, but said instead, “You are kind to offer, but I intended to walk to the bluffs to have a last look at the ocean before we leave. You gentlemen will have plans, I am sure, to start hunting soon.”

Arling disagreed. “We do not. A day of rest has been declared. We have completed the last of our hunting here at Greatfleet.”

Darcy was less sure. “I am due to meet my sister for breakfast in half an hour’s time. That will not leave me sufficient time to walk there and back,” he said to Arling, having checked his watch.

Arling was not concerned. “Then walk a quarter hour’s distance only, before turning back. Or if you do not think that you ought to go, I can accompany Mrs. Wickham myself.”

Mr. Darcy considered it. He looked quickly at Elizabeth, who tried her best to seem friendly and inviting. “A quarter hour then,” he agreed.

“We will not let you forget Georgiana,” Elizabeth assured him.

Mr. Darcy did not look entirely comfortable; but then, he and Elizabeth did not always have the best history of walking together. 

Setting out, Mr. Arling offered Elizabeth his arm, which she accepted. Mr. Darcy walked on Arling's opposite side. Elizabeth would really rather that Darcy were going the entire way with her and Arling, but the extra company for a short time at least was appreciated. 

They three spoke lightly and easily of many little things, for the path to the bluffs overlooking the sea was not strenuous. On the contrary, they could expect soft grassy hills, and shaded, lightly treed woods all the way to the ridge’s edge. 

“Last night your brother Bingley told me there is a mare he means to buy,” Arling informed Elizabeth as they walked. “He had it all planned. He will breed her with Berklee’s Walmsley and have a fine racing colt out of her.”

“How very like Bingley—to pick up an expensive hobby,” Elizabeth said indiscreetly.

When a particular vista allowed them a first glimpse of the glittering ocean water, they three paused a moment to look. “It is such a beautiful day,” said Mr. Arling. “May I suggest continuing on to the sea rather than stopping at the bluffs?"

"That will add a mile at least to go and return again." Elizabeth reminded him, to say nothing of the difficult and steep climb down to the water’s edge.

"That is not too far for a good walker," he insisted, “which I see that you are.” When she did not immediately accept he added, "think how long it may be until you get your next chance to touch the ocean. You cannot have many opportunities in Hertfordshire."

"Alright, then.”

Mr. Darcy announced that he must turn back. He grumbled as he did. 

"Please tell Miss Darcy good morning for me," Elizabeth requested, hoping that he would stop looking so severe. Darcy agreed that he would and then turned towards the direction of the house.

"Poor chap." Mr. Arling said, after Mr. Darcy left.

"I am sorry?"

"I forced him into that bramble just there." 

"Oh. I had thought…"

"Thought that that was just his face?"

Elizabeth nodded. Then she tried to laugh. "He is a serious fellow."

"Steely northerners," Arling agreed. He leaned in closer, for the sea breeze was picking up now making it harder to hear. "Though to tell honestly, I wish his sister were made of stiffer stuff. Berklee is a decent man for Miss Darcy, but Sir Hugh and Lady Berklee are not the sort of parents I would wish on a girl like that."

Elizabeth felt unequal to either agreeing or disagreeing out loud with this statement.

"If you think me unkind, just know: I've an unyielding mother of my own. I must think about these things when I want to introduce someone to my family.”

"They will negotiate some balance when the time comes," Elizabeth said, hoping for the girl's sake her words were true. "People always do when they must live together."

"How was it with your husband's family? Did you do much negotiation to find your place with them?"

Elizabeth shook her head. Nothing she could boast of. "No. Lt. Wickham had no immediate family and we were largely on our own. Though I think that my own unyielding mother and my four sisters were probably quite challenging."

"Your father needed no winning over?"

"I remember that part going easily."

Arling nodded. He then continued asking her questions until their full attention was required descending the hill to the water’s edge. The path down the cliff face was steep and unstable; and Elizabeth concentrated so that she might not slip and find herself with a twisted ankle, reliant on Mr. Arling to bring her back to the manor house.

***

Elizabeth returned to her room to freshen herself before tea time began. Though she had been denied the time to herself, she decided that she was happy to have taken the walk to the sea. The Devon coast was beautiful to see on a fine August day. But she was tired, body and mind, from her efforts.

She sat on her bed, looking out her great windows, hardly thinking of anything at all. It was in this state that she belatedly realized that she was watching Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy walking in the sunken gardens. They walked arm in arm, slowly making their way round and round. Elizabeth could not tell if they were speaking or walking in silence, only that Georgiana kept tucking her head down and against the sleeve of Mr. Darcy’s coat, as if being pelted at by an unseen mob. 

It was several hours since Darcy had left Elizabeth and Arling. Had they been walking thus all this time? 

Conscious that she was invading their privacy, Elizabeth stood and shut her drapes. 


	19. Chapter 19

Mr. James Berklee and Miss Darcy announced their engagement on the final night at Greatfleet Manor. 

During the dinner, Elizabeth had been giving all her attention to Mrs. Wedgewood, when she became aware that Mr. Berklee was trying to speak. His voice was deep, but muted—only just loud enough to be heard around the table when not competing with other conversations. It took a few moments and a few false starts before everyone assembled was aware he was talking. Mr. Bingley, the last to still be speaking, laughed at his own blunder. 

Finally, Mr. Berklee cleared his throat and began again. "I am grateful for your presence tonight and pleased to inform you that one of my dearest friends will soon become my brother, and his sister, my wife. That is," he elaborated, "Miss Darcy and I are announcing our engagement to be married." 

A clamor rose up and filled the room, overwhelming Mr. Berklee. He was forced back in his chair, blushing red in the face as a very hardy and noisy congratulations was extended by all his friends. Chairs were abandoned generally and Elizabeth found herself giving congratulations to the bride-to-be in the form of a rather warmer hug than she was certain Georgiana wanted.

—When would the wedding take place, Mrs. May wanted to know? In Derbyshire, just before Christmas. The couple had not yet planned their honeymoon, but perhaps they would go to Italy. They did intend to return to London again the following summer. 

When seats were found again, Mr. Edmund Berklee offered a toast to Miss Darcy and to his brother. Other news followed. Miss Zwick, delighted at the distinction of being asked, was invited to Derbyshire as Miss Darcy’s particular friend. There she would stay until the wedding in December to help with the preparations.

***

The act of parting began immediately after dinner that night because both Mr. Arling and Mr. Edmund Berklee were obligated to leave the estate at a very early hour—they each hoped to reach Bristol that same day, which required a full day’s travel and setting out before the general breakfast began. Of the rest of the party, Mr. James Berklee would remain at Greatfleet with his parents, but everyone else, including the Bingleys, Mays, Col. and Mrs. Wedgewood, Miss Zwick and the Darcys, would rest another night at the Somerset inn they had stayed at on the journey in. From there the group would divide once more, with only the Bingleys returning to London on their way to Hertfordshire. 

The drive to the inn was not long, but the few hours on the road left Elizabeth feeling mildly ill. It was ameliorated somewhat by the opportunity to wash her face, change her gown, and sit in pleasant stillness on a sofa in the sitting room of the inn. She had only settled in briefly before Mr. Darcy appeared in the room. He greeted her with a bow.

"Miss Darcy and Miss Zwick mean to walk to the milliners and back before dinner. I am sent to invite you and your sister to go with them, if you are inclined."

"That is very kind," Elizabeth hesitated.

"Do not feel compelled. If you are tired they will understand."

"Mrs. Bingley, I know has laid down to rest before dinner." Elizabeth admitted that she was also now happily settled.

Mr. Darcy reassured her again and left to deliver her regrets.

Rather to Elizabeth's surprise, he returned only a few minutes later carrying a book. Elizabeth welcomed him back and hearing that the ladies had gone, watched as he sat in a neighboring chair and began to read. 

‘Are we friends then?’ she wondered to herself amazed. But after the long two weeks in Greatfleet, maybe they were friends.

"Is your book not keeping your attention?" she asked him after a while. She was distracted from her own reading, and had watched as he put his book down several times and was now staring into the fire. "I will give you part of my newspaper, if you would like."

"Thank you," he took the offered pages. "I have not read it."

"Yes. The Berklees kept none in their home,” she said, making conversation. “That is odd, is it not?"

Darcy looked confused. "No. Or rather, they did keep them. They were always laid out in the billiard room."

Elizabeth looked put out to learn this. “It is my fault for not asking," she admitted, "but the ladies spent no time in the billiard room."

"You like to regularly take the news?" 

"I do. I had not paid one wit of attention to politics and policy in my youth. It always seemed the realm of power mad men—not of women and especially not of women of sensibility. But I find as I grow older that it seems more important to be informed."

Darcy thought about this for a moment. "That is how you think of yourself? As a woman of sensibility?"

"Do not challenge me sir. You will hurt my pride."

"Yes, of course," he said quickly retreating. 

“I am being silly—” 

"Not at all. What have you learned from the paper?"

"The world's ills were not solved while we were in Devon." She held up her page. “And Mr. Lewis, the author of  _ The Monk _ has died."

Mr. Darcy nodded. “A pity."

They attempted to read silently again for some minutes until Mr. Darcy spoke again, "What was your opinion of Greatfleet?"

"It is a beautiful place,” Elizabeth said. She emphasized her words with a small smile. 

"I hope that Berklee was a good host to you." 

"I have no complaints with your friend or his personal hospitality.” Then, moving the conversation to safer subjects, she added, “I can have no complaints with any of your Cambridge friends—they are universally charming and worthwhile men."

"That is all Bingley's doing. The rest of us were wandering fellows before he found us. It is his talent—bringing people together." Then, nodding her way, Mr. Darcy added, "I don't like to tell others where to be grateful, but I should be happy to call him family as you do."

Elizabeth nodded but felt confused. She wondered if there were some message here she was not understanding—about Mr. Darcy's feelings towards his soon to be brother-in-law, perhaps? or even still about Bingley's choice of Jane as a wife? He could not be pinning for a Bingley sister, Elizabeth was sure. Or perhaps he meant nothing more than to share his feeling of deepest affection for his dearest friend.

"I know my good fortune," she replied.

Darcy gestured in her direction again. "If Arlng said anything about Bingley that worried you, please know that it is not warranted. There is nothing in Bingley's youth that he should be ashamed of, no matter how the story might have been told. Bingley would be a good man to any wife. And much to his credit, he knows his good fortune in marrying your sister."

"I was not at all worried," Elizabeth assured Mr. Darcy, "but thank you for letting me know. Now, when you and Miss Darcy and Miss Zwick leave tomorrow, where will your next stop be?"

He allowed her to change the topic without comment. "We will lodge in Worcestershire tomorrow night. And the next day we will arrive at Pemberley."

"I look forward to hearing about the wedding. It will be a blessed marriage, I am sure." She smiled as she spoke, hoping he knew that she wished the best for his family.

"I pray so," he agreed. "Berklee is a good man. His family, I hope will be considerate of Georgiana as she grows into her role.”

Elizabeth nodded and rumpled her paper slightly.

"Was Lady Berklee unkind to you?" Mr Darcy asked, abruptly. "I wonder not only for Georgiana's sake, though it does concern me. But also for you, and for your sister, perhaps?" 

He asked the questions considerately, but Elizabeth felt a flash of panic. Of course Mr. Darcy must have noticed some of the tension between herself and Lady Berklee, but she had dearly wanted for it to be unworthy of remembering by anyone in the party. Elizabeth shook her head. “Lady Berklee seems in every way fond of Georgiana; and it matched the strong, universal affection I saw her display for all her blood and law relatives. If I received some of Lady Berklee's ire, it is because I am hard to like in narrow company and I let my impatience outpace my propriety."

Mr. Darcy narrowed his gaze at her. "You would never say that about your sister."

Elizabeth sighed. "Please do not make me call Lady Berklee a fool for Jane's sake. I know I am biased, after all." And feeling uncomfortable now, Elizabeth stood. "It is grown late. I should go upstairs and change for dinner."

“Until then,” Mr. Darcy said, standing and bowing to her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to justdreaming88 for reading through this chapter before it was posted :)


	20. Chapter 20

What  _ did _ Elizabeth Wickham think about her time spent at Greatfleet House? 

Rather than dwelling on it, her first reaction upon arriving in London was rather to throw off any thoughts of Devon or the people there in the relief of holding her daughter. 

The time away had seemed much longer than the fortnight that it was. Little Charles was so angry at his parents for leaving him that he would not hug or speak with Jane for the first twenty minutes of their return. But the girls, Frances and Lucy, were feeling more forgiving and wanted only much love and attention from their mothers.

Mrs. Bennet greeted Jane and Elizabeth each with a kiss on the cheek, and an earful of news. She was as enthusiastic now about returning to Hertfordshire, as she had been to see London when she had arrived a fortnight previous. They would be ready to travel again in the morning, yes? No use in putting off the last leg of the journey. Everything could be packed up that night.

So it was only once the evening was very well advanced, the trunks repacked, and everyone else was in bed, that Elizabeth could find the means to reexamine what she had seen and done on her travels.

Many hours earlier, after she had awoken at the inn, there had been one last round of goodbyes said, as the remaining members of the party gathered in the gravel of the inn's front drive. 

Georgiana had been in a jolly mood. Elizabeth noticed because it was in such contrast to even the happiest expression produced by the young woman during the two previous weeks in her future home. No doubt she was both pleased to be bringing a friend back to Pemberley with her and to have escaped from her fiance’s parents. 

Eleanor also openly celebrated her invitation to join Georgiana. She felt the distinction of being asked keenly and would not check her excitement. She also, that morning, had extracted promises from Jane, Elizabeth, and Mrs. May that they would write regularly to her. She was, she promised, an excellent correspondent.

Though their conversation in the sitting room the afternoon before had been unexpected and strange, Elizabeth thought she might safely wish Mr. Darcy a pleasant journey home—which she did. He returned her sentiments before seeing Georgiana and Eleanor into their carriage.

Finally, Mrs. Wedgewood pulled Elizabeth into a tight embrace. "I am sorry to manhandle you so," the older woman apologized, "but I want you to know the strength of my affections for you. You made yourself so indispensable to me in Newcastle, and I am still smarting from the loss years later." 

“Do not apologize,” Elizabeth said taking her friend's hand. “How I wish that I could be more often in your company. You are a wise and steady force for good in my life."

Mrs. Wedgewood pat Elizabeth's cheek as she might a much younger girl. "I shall send you the direction for letters as soon as we are settled in our new home."

Elizabeth nodded. "I hope that Liverpool is very much to your liking. The militia is lucky to have you."

Mrs. Wedgewood looked over her shoulder at her younger sister driving away in the Darcy carriage, and then quickly back to Elizabeth. Her smile spoke of pride but not happiness. "I am sure I shall like it just fine, dear. I am fond of new places when I am not saying goodbye."

They kissed each other once more, each on the hand, and then walked separately to their respective carriages. Within a few minutes Elizabeth, Jane, and Bingley were alone on the road to London.

***

The dawn of the next morning found Elizabeth waking in her London bedroom, still tired and sore from two days of traveling. No matter though, the children were up and Miss Jenny and Mrs. Bennet could be heard directing the movement of people and things once more towards the carriage.

When Jane and Bingley woke an hour later they were also hurried into motion, “so that we might be home for dinner before your father grows too hungry," Mrs. Bennet told her daughters. "I have sent a message to Hill to have a nice meal prepared for tonight. Your father will be so pleased to see us all around the table."

Elizabeth doubted this, knowing that her father was never much excited by either dinners or by social visiting. But forward she went, allowing herself to be pushed, until hours later she stood in front of her uncharacteristically warm and welcoming father. He even stayed with them for some twenty minutes to ask about their summer.

Mr. Bennet did not often sit in the parlor, but when he did it was in a large comfortable upholstered chair. From there he looked his children, wife and grandchildren all over, each in turn, then said generally, "I should congratulate and thank you all for returning the others to me safely." And when he had heard enough to satisfy his initial curiosity, he retired back to the library with Frances and Lucy at his heels.

Over dinner he was again surprisingly lively and shared what village news he’d accumulated (since he did not write as a rule). He looked happy each time he excited Mrs. Bennet’s interest and dramatically insisted that she apply to Lady Lucas when his own knowledge failed on some point.

“Father, I suppose, has been too long alone,” whispered Elizabeth to Jane.

"I wish you would all stay here tonight," Mrs. Bennet told her daughters as they loaded their children back into the carriage after dinner. “Your babies do not want more time on the road.”

"They do not," Jane agreed. But she continued to move everyone out the door anyway.

“Take care that their room has been well cleaned. It was a dreadfully dry summer here and the dust in the air will have settled on everything."

Elizabeth promised to look the nursery over carefully before putting the children to bed.


	21. Chapter 21

For some weeks Elizabeth had fixed her wishes and hopes on moving from London back to Netherfield; but now that the time had arrived, she was very lately reminded that this meant confining herself to the narrow life of the country, rather than escaping to some imagined free space. To be sure, there would be winter balls and country dances. If the weather was fine, Jane threatened to let Elizabeth ride on horseback again. Bingley would invite friends to stay. Elizabeth would earn her keep by planning dinners and entertainment for whoever would join them. It was entirely different than the London season and entirely the same.

“I want you to bring the children and stay for a week at Longbourn,” Mrs. Bennet urged, when she next visited Netherfield. “You and I can sit with our baskets the south parlor and watch the children in the garden. It really is better for playing in the cold weather than the garden here. Besides, I promised a whole basket of worsted work to the parson and Kitty left me left me too much to finish. And with you there, your father might even read for us while we work.”

Kitty was due to visit later that fall, almost a year exactly since she had last been home—which meant the darning and knitting that Mrs. Bennet promised Rev. Wooton was very long overdue, indeed. When Jane reminded them that she and Bingley would travel again in three weeks, Elizabeth conceded. She would stay with her parents during that time. 

And so it was that on a fine sunny morning in late October, Elizabeth, Miss Jenny, Frances, Lucy, and young Charles made the three mile drive down the road to Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet was unreasonably happy to see them, as though her daughter and grandchildren were not all very regularly in her company. Still, the packing of clothes and trunks did lend the visit the greater feeling of a holiday; and the children were enthusiastic about the idea of uninterrupted time with their grandparents.

“Come and look at your bed,” Mrs. Bennet told the two girls, asking them to follow her upstairs to the old nursery room. Frances took Lucy’s hand and together they toddled up after their grandmother. 

Elizabeth carried young Charles to the library to say good morning to her father.

“You are here already, are you? I thought I heard a noise,” Mr. Bennet said, looking up from his newspaper.

“You must be mistaken. The noise you hear is Mrs. Hill, bouncing that new India rubber ball of hers.”

Mr. Bennet chuckled, acknowledging the sound of playing above their heads.

“Are you quite sure you are prepared to have us here all week?” Elizabeth asked her father.

“A week? In its entirety? Well, I suppose it is too late to deny you all entrance now. I must manage as I always do.”

Elizabeth put Charles down in the corner with a familiar pile of blocks, and then took up a part of the newspaper. “Well keep your wits about you. We mean to try them.”

Her father winked. “You too, my dear.”

***

From her earliest youth, Mrs. Frances Bennet had always possessed an open and frank character. Although her understanding was not great, she was generous with her thoughts and observations, and would present them to others, biased but ready to be interpreted through a more keen mind. It was an exercise that Elizabeth had some proficiency in.

In this way, Elizabeth and Mrs. Bennet passed the hours as they labored on the mending. One by one, each given their turn, Mrs. Bennet dutifully recalled and recounted what she knew of the four-and-twenty local families in their acquaintance.

“I heard from my sister that Mrs. Mary Green, that is the former Miss Mary King, is returning to Brookside Manor. She has remarried and is bringing her new husband to Hertfordshire to live. Your Aunt Phillips and I agree that it is a very good thing for the neighborhood. That steward who was running the estate was incompetent enough to be criminal. You should ask you father—he had to stop lending equipment to the farm because it was always returned in dreadful condition.”

It had been years since Elizabeth had heard anything of the heiress of Brookside Manor. “Has Mrs. Green any children?”

“No none. It will make her new husband nervous, I am sure.”

“There may be advantages to the union besides the hope of children,” Elizabeth countered.

“Of course, of course. He will live well enough off her property in exchange for any trouble.”

“But you still count her as the lucky one?”

“Well certainly! She could not continue to live alone in Bedford of all places in a house with her dead husband’s brother. And Brookside Manor or no, she is still too young and too poor to live as a dowager.”

“She is a year younger than I am.”

Mrs. Bennet looked at her daughter blankly. 

Elizabeth continued. “And I am too poor even to possess an estate.” 

“Psh, that is entirely different. Miss King is ill favored and alone in the world. What reason do you have to marry again?” Mrs. Bennet dismissed it with a wave before thinking longer and growing suspicious. “And why should you say such things? Should we be expecting someone?” 

“Oh! No, I did not mean that,” Elizabeth answered, regretting where she had taken the conversation. 

Mrs. Bennet dismissed her with a wave of a hand. “You might wed again if you would like, or if it was to an appropriate gentleman of this neighborhood. But you will be hard pressed to find anyone to equal your Lt. Wickham. And besides Lizzy, you have such a nice life with your sister. She is always happiest when you are around. And if need be, you could come back here with me and your father—if you ever needed time away from Netherfield.”

Elizabeth was a little astonished to hear her mother say this. Wasn’t a good marriage the thing Mrs. Bennet valued above all else? “You aren’t embarrassed to have a poor widowed daughter living at home?”

“Embarrassed? Why should I be? You’ve been married. And proposed to twice! Why, that is more than any of your sisters, save Mary.”

“Mary?”

“How many women would be grateful to receive even one marriage proposal?” Mrs. Bennet emphasized.

Elizabeth interrupted. “How many proposals has Mary received?”

“Well, three,” her mother answered. When Elizabeth pressed her on it, she recounted, “There was that young man from Surrey, Mr. Grant. She was quite right in turning him down. He was no match for her and terribly homely besides. And then, when she went to Bath to help Lydia settle in to her house, there was another gentleman who asked for her hand after knowing her for no more than a week! But she was by then too interested Rev. Kinsley to give him much thought, and she turned him down straight away. Then finally there was the Revered himself.”

Elizabeth was shocked. She had never before heard anything about those two earlier proposals. 

“I worried about Mary going off with Rev. Kinsley,” Mrs. Bennet continued, “but she never seems a bit sorry to be living in Scotland. She never complains or tells me she is unhappy.” Her mother went on. “You should know that it was not like this when you were away. I never worried about you the way I do about her. You are easy around new people. But Mary is so reserved. What if she has no one to talk to? What if she spends all her time by herself!”

Elizabeth was taken aback but eventually found words to console her mother. “I hear that one is hardly ever alone as a parson’s wife. Your concern might better lay in her needing more time to herself, not less. But you are correct in saying her letters show nothing of it. It certainly seems as though she has found her place in the world. She is by all evidence contented.”

Mrs. Bennet nodded a little sadly. Quite suddenly then, she put her work down and took Elizabeth’s hand in one of her own. “Mary, you know, was my baby longer than any of you save Lydia. It was three years between her birth and Kitty’s. But you were my shortest, with less than a year until Mary arrived.”

“Yes. That is all true,” agreed Elizabeth carefully, not understanding her mother’s strange mood. Mary had also been sick as a baby, leaving Elizabeth to be far more independent at a young age than her other sisters. “I owe Mary a letter. Let us write to her after dinner. We can tell her how she is missed.”

Mrs. Bennet was comforted by that idea. 

"I am finished with this piece,” Elizabeth said, holding up her knitting. She then opened a bag filled with stockings and socks enough to dress the neighborhood. "Are  _ all _ these to be darned?" 

"Yes. They are for Mr. Haigh mostly. He needs extra help now that his wife is gone." 

"Did Mrs. Haigh die? You did not tell me that!" Elizabeth chastened her mother.

"Did I not? I am sorry dear. It happened in June after you’d gone, while I was visiting Lydia and her new baby."

"You must let me deliver these with you. I feel so rude now." Mr. and Mrs. Haigh lived just outside the immediate village of Longbourn and Elizabeth had known them all her life.

Mrs. Bennet would of course inform her daughter when she made her next visit to Mr. Haigh’s farm. 

"If only his son would marry. Then they would not be in this trouble,” she motioned at the large number of holey, worn items.

"And I would still not know that Mrs. Haigh had died!" Elizabeth scolded. She went to retrieve a darning egg, and sitting, she took up the first of the worn socks to be repaired. 

“You know, if Jane dies, you might think about marrying again,” said Mrs. Bennet, starting on the earlier topic of marriage again. “Bingley is very fond of you, but a second wife could not be relied upon to indulge an old in-law. I would not want to see you in the hedgerows.”

“Thank you mother. I shall remember that advice.” 

“But if Jane does not predecease Bingley, then you really needn’t worry at all. Or perhaps he would consider marrying you in that case.”

“Heavens!”

***

Elizabeth lay in her bed that night, listening and thinking. 

She and Mrs. Bennet had made good progress with their plainwork and, Elizabeth was reminded, it gave one a pleasant feeling to be so productive. But despite that earlier contentedness, Elizabeth felt troubled and out of place now that the household was asleep. 

‘No, nothing that severe,’ Elizabeth corrected herself. She was not distressed; only unsettled. She was very much aware that this was the first time in five years that she had spent a night at Longbourn—since the night before her wedding. And somehow the house was entirely different then, with Jane in her bed, and her three younger sisters in constant motion down the hall. The children had played noisily all day, but their sound was of a different tone than that of high spirited young ladies. 

Restless, Elizabeth thought on the letter she had written to her sister Mary earlier that night. After dining with the children, Elizabeth had taken up a pen to capture what Mrs. Bennet dictated. It was not a long missive, but Elizabeth was surprised to learn several details about her sister’s life that she had been entirely ignorant of. 

“Ask Mary how her Beth is getting on,” Mrs. Bennet instructed.

“Her Beth?”

“Yes, the girl who has been living in her house this past year. The poor thing has an infant daughter whose father abandoned them. She’s had a very hard time of it. Ask Mary about the foundling house also.”

“And what is that?”

“It is her work for the parish...For the outdoor relief...For the orphaned children!” said Mrs. Bennet growing exasperated, as though she thought her daughter were being purposefully slow to understand. But Elizabeth knew nothing about this project that Mrs. Bennet claimed took so much of Mary’s time recently. “Ask her also if she mightn’t come and visit after Martinmas? Kitty will be here then and it would be so nice to have all my daughters home together.”

Mr. Bennet then added a few words also, at his wife’s prompting.

***

Elizabeth and her mother made so much good progress on the mending the first three days that they did not feel guilty at all when they decided to take the children into Meryton for the day on the fourth, or host Sir Lucas and his wife on the fifth, or invite Aunt Phillips over for a long chat on the sixth. Then they must scramble to finish the rest of the mending by the end of the week and the return of Jane and Bingley. 

Mrs. Bennet wiped at her damp eyes when it came time for them to depart. “I must let this visit tide me over until Kitty arrives,” Mrs. Bennet said, kissing each grandchild before they were lifted into the carriage. “For I am left so often alone—”

“We are only down the lane mama. You might visit us every day until Kitty comes,” Elizabeth reminded her. She finished by kissing her mother’s cheek before climbing into the carriage. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to justdreaming88 for your keen eye!


	22. Chapter 22

It might not have happened every day, as Mrs. Bennet wished, but in the weeks leading up to Martinmas there were very regular visits between the households at Netherfield Park and Longbourn. And though Elizabeth did most of her traveling by carriage or by foot, she was during this time also convinced to return to the back of a horse.

It was Bingley’s doing. 

Though Elizabeth worried about the confines of country life, it was Bingley who chaffed most at it. Bingley did not like to stay at home, and so, most mornings, he went out to visit neighbors, to call on merchants, or to check on some aspect of the running of his property. Jane liked to ride with him, but not every day. So it was his need for both something to do and someone to go with, that persuaded Elizabeth to ride again. Horse riding with her brother was, admittedly, less precise and less successful than when she rode with Arling. But Bingley, boundlessly energetic, needed an outlet; and Elizabeth found it an acceptable way to be out of the house and in the autumn air. 

Bingley and Elizabeth began each of these rides with a short chat with the Netherfield stablemaster. For two minutes, or ten, or twenty, Bingley and Mr. Hanley would daily discuss their ever changing plans for the new stable. Mr. Arling had been correct so many months ago—Bingley had caught the bug for racing horses. And now that foaling season had come to an end, Bingley was keen to get out and see all the animals born on neighboring farms this year. Elizabeth’s new palfrey was the first he came back with. But plans were made for grander things than a lady’s riding horse. 

Elizabeth was recruited to help in another way.

Bingley’s talents lay mostly in conversation and inquiry, and all written work and accounting was a chore to him. But since Elizabeth was there for so many of these rides, and so many of these talks, it would not be such a great bother for her to pick up the bookkeeping for the horse breeding program, would it? 

“Has Jane already turned you down?” she asked a sheepish Bingley.

But Elizabeth was pleasantly surprised to find that the documenting of horses was at least as much to her liking as the riding of them. After dinner, while the children played, she could often manage a few minutes time to put down on paper whatever had happened that day. It became a family matter when Frances took a fancy to hearing about the horses and wanted to know the names and pedigrees of their little stable repeated each night. What was spent on them was less interesting, but Elizabeth had a good mind for that also.

***

“Is that them?” Mrs. Bennet asked, alight. “Go and look Frances! Do you see a carriage approaching?”

Frances hurried to the nearest window and after she confirmed the carriage with a shout, Little Charles, Lucy, Mrs. Bennet, Jane, and Elizabeth all tumbled out of the sitting room and into the yard. Mrs. Katherine Tam nee Bennet had been expected at Longbourn today and Mrs. Bennet had asked her two eldest daughters to spend the morning with her in anticipation. The drive from London must have gone well, because Kitty had arrived as early as she could possibly have been hoped.

“Is that your carriage?” Mrs. Bennet gasped, amazed at what she saw as Kitty descended from an elaborate landau. 

It was not. “John and I let it for our time in London. We decided at the last minute that I should bring it here, instead of taking the post. I’ll admit it was an easier ride—“ 

Jane nodded. “That is not something to be ashamed of in your case.”

“There are worse ways to travel when pregnant,” agreed Elizabeth.

Kitty put two hands to her stomach. “The baby has grown quite suddenly. When I wrote to you all three weeks ago, one could hardly tell that I was expecting.” 

Mrs. Bennet took Kitty’s shoulders to draw her close. “And you hardly can tell now! The fashion these days is so forgiving to women. Five months along you are, and you'll scarcely even be able to notice until the very end! When I was expecting you girls, we had to loosen our stays almost from the beginning and cover up with aprons. And at the end, our clothes all fit so ill. But no one thought much of it then, I suppose."

“Let’s not stand here,” said Elizabeth. They were still in the gravel. “It is cold. And Kitty must need to refresh herself.”

Kitty was eager for a rest and tea, but she couldn’t help but dawdle a little to admire her sisters’ children. When they shyly would not come to give her a hug, however, she fell back into a chair and decided to let time do the hard work of making friends of them all.

“Charles is so big! He must be heavier than Lucy, though he is six months younger.”

“Frances was larger still at this age,” admitted Jane. “They are both great, lumbering bears compared to delicate little Lucy.”

Elizabeth protested. She would not admit to Lucy being delicate. Or fine. Or petite. But she accepted compact. 

“Well,” said Kitty dismissively, “I hope she ends up your size at least.” Kitty had been proud of her tall height since she first outgrew Mary, then Elizabeth, then lastly, but most impressively, Jane.

“She will do fine at my height or any other.”

“Our friend Mrs. May manages. And Lady Lucas. And they are both rather shorter than either Mary or Elizabeth,” said Jane.

“Of course, I am only teasing,” insisted Kitty. “Lucy is too clever and pretty to be impeded by her short stature, anyway.”

“Well you needn’t fear, I’m sure any child of yours will be impressively well grown,” said Elizabeth. She almost meant it graciously.

Kitty laughed. “I would certainly have explaining to do if not!” Mr. Tam, her husband, was also of tall stature. 

“And how is your Mr. Tam?” Mrs. Bennet needed to know. “Will he be joining us later this week?”

Lamentably, he would not. “But he sends both his regrets and his regards to each of you. We will need to plan for longer stay next time, but there simply aren’t enough days for him to complete his business in London before we must sail back home to Ireland.”

Mrs. Bennet thought that was quite a pity and set to consoling her daughter, petting her and cooing.

Kitty, for her part, looked quite pleased at the attention.

***

Though Kitty chose to board at Longbourn with her mother and father, she still saw her elder sisters daily. Unfortunately, there were no social events of any note planned in the neighborhood during the time of Kitty’s stay. Mrs. Bennet spoke of hosting a dinner, perhaps; but while that was being planned they would call on all their friends instead. Elizabeth worried it would be too much for her expecting sister, but Kitty was perfectly unconcerned and happy to take her rented carriage out for a drive each day.

Aunt Philips would not be put off in seeing her niece. Nor would Sir William and Lady Lucas in seeing their closest neighbors. With that in mind, the next morning found the sisters and their mother entering the parlor of Lucas Lodge. 

The young Miss Lucases were very curious about Ireland and wanted to know what Kitty could tell them about her new life there. Lady Lucas would hear about the traveling conditions the Tam’s faced on their journey. Sir William Lucas was even more disappointed than Mrs. Bennet to learn that Mr. Tam had not come. This subject he returned to several times during the visit.

“What a loss! But surely there is time enough for a short stop to the neighborhood? After you have come such a long way?” Sir William lamented. If only Mr. Tam could be persuaded to reside closer Mrs. Tam’s girlhood home, so that they could all meet in company more frequently. 

Kitty was firm in her husband’s defense. This trip to London was not for pleasure and Mr. Tam was, “not a man of leisure, as you, yourself are,” she reminded Sir William. 

“Someday, perhaps, your husband will be able to give it up,” he consoled her, not understanding Kitty’s position on the matter.

To Mrs. Bennet, this sounded too much like criticism. “Mr. Tam may give up the trade someday, if he likes, to take up some other pursuit; but the business of textiles is such an interesting one! And my son-in-law has such a keen mind for it! I wouldn’t be surprised if he never decided to leave!”

Sir William could not understand this either; but his principal rule in life was to say flattering things whenever he was uncertain, and it served him well here. Mrs. Bennet was brought back to order with assurances that her favorite son-in-law (they each had their turn at the role) was properly appreciated. 

“Mr. Tam’s father was an MP you know,” Mrs. Bennet added, boasting.

Lady Lucas looked ready to point out that it was only for the Irish Parliament, but closed her mouth again.

***

Later that evening, when it was only the three sisters together, Elizabeth felt compelled to ask Kitty about her husband again. 

“Mama seems to think that your Mr. Tam is destined for a seat in the parliament like his father. It must be a comfort to know that she is so ambitious on his behalf.” She finished with a wink.

Kitty laughed at this; but she neither confirmed or denied its likelihood, which to Elizabeth’s mind meant it was being, at least, considered. Elizabeth found herself agreeing with everyone else and desiring that Mr. Tam were here now. She wished to take his measure. Or at the least, she wished that she had paid him more attention when he had been in Hertfordshire before. The engagement between Kitty and Mr. Tam was so short and had come when Lucy was still very young—Elizabeth had hardly considered the man before he had married her sister and they set sail. Was he as ambitious as he sounded? As intelligent? What other qualities did he possess?

“It is hard sometimes that the business is so demanding of him,“ said Kitty, “but honestly, I think that I am better able to stand it than most women. So many of these wives of tradesmen complain of little else, unless it is their pin money.”

“Do you them very tiring—the tradesmen and their wives?” asked Jane.

“No, hardly at all,” recanted Kitty. “They are much like anyone else. Very much the same as John and I.”

“How do you spend your time in Waterford?” asked Elizabeth, wanting more details.

Kitty spoke briefly of social things, but quickly her narrative turned to details of running the trade business. Elizabeth attended closely as her sister described the well thought out and cunningly executed endeavor that was her husband’s business. “John is now working to complete a contract with a Londoner that would find a steadier market here in England. It would be a victory many years in the making.”

Elizabeth was surprised at Kitty’s enthusiastic speech. “You are so well informed!”

Kitty smiled, proud.

“John and I have been thinking that, perhaps in another year, it will be worth his time to live more permanently in London. He has been traveling to town so often now." 

That was something Jane could celebrate. ”Oh, how wonderful that would be! You would be so much closer to us.” 

"Well, don't tell mama yet," Elizabeth warned. "Unless you want her asking about it every time that you write."

"I am excited enough myself that I am not sure I would mind," Kitty admitted. "I've not set down such deep roots yet in Waterford that I would not like to try London. 

***

“What a pleasant surprise Kitty is!”

It was late that same night and Elizabeth and Jane were in the carriage, returning to Netherfield Park. The children had fallen asleep before they even entered the lane, and they all five family members were huddled together in the dark interior, the adults speaking in low voices. “She is very pleasant, yes,” said Jane.

“But not a surprise?” Elizabeth countered.

“Honestly, I am not sure that I take your meaning.”

“No, I suppose you would not be so dimwitted as I. It is only that I still thought of Kitty as a silly young girl, not a well informed woman.”

Elizabeth made out that Jane was smiling as she answered. “I was surprised how much she knew of her husband’s business. She answered all of your questions and then some.”

“Yes. I cannot comprehend it. How do you suppose she came to understand all of that? All of that great detail?” 

Jane laughed. “Lizzy,” she chided, “you don’t give your sister much credit!”

“I don’t mean that I think she is incapable of learning it; Kitty is clever enough, but she never paid much attention to particulars before. Are she and Mr. Tam sitting at home each night discussing his day’s work? Or are they hosting business partners and Kitty has been listening in? Has she given up studying fashion in favor of studying the textile trade?“

“Ask her yourself if you are so curious!” Jane insisted. “It is not inappropriate. Kitty has always liked to have attention paid to her. She will be flattered that you take an interest in her life.”

“Alright, I shall.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am super flattered that Penitence and Propriety's questions about Mr. Wickham were an inspiration to Laure001 and her new P&P variation "I Told You So!"
> 
> You should read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13887702/chapters/51713308
> 
> And everything else she has written, if you have somehow missed them. Laure001 writes the very best, most interesting, Austen inspired fiction.

“I am tempted to drive us down to Hampshire so that we can see Lydia,” Kitty told her elder sisters, “but I know it is silly. There is hardly time before we would have to turn around and return again.”

It was a cooler afternoon, just after a fresh rain had cleared. They had been stuck inside since the day before and Kitty alternated between sleeping and wandering restlessly.

“If Bingley heard you say that he would have us all out the door in a moment.” Elizabeth whispered conspiratorially. “And Jane halts him almost never, so you will have two on your side if you only speak the words loudly.”

Kitty sighed, with a little drama. “I am trying to be practical. I have already promised Lydia that I shall visit her the next time that I am in England.” Kitty had told her sisters that she would return that summer. 

“Are you certain you will you want to go all that way?” Elizabeth asked. She warned her sister, “you may find that harder than you expect, to travel with a baby.” 

“It will be much easier for me than for Lydia, with all her children.” 

Jane, who was working on keeping the household books, looked up. “Are you much in correspondence with Lydia?” she wondered aloud. 

“As often as anyone can be. She writes when she is able.”

Lydia hardly answered one letter out of every three that Jane and Elizabeth sent her, so it was no surprise that she neglected Kitty also. “Lydia has always been very much consumed with her own life.” 

Kitty agreed, but did not act hurt by her younger sister’s laxness. “Lydia’s mother-in-law relies upon her excessively. And now that her husband’s sister is living with them, Lydia is responsible for a rather large household.”

“It does beggar the imagination.”

Kitty, to Elizabeth’s chagrin, looked perplexed. “Lydia did not know much when she began, but by every report she has learned the skills quickly. Just ask our mother—she told me that it was one of the best run households she had seen. And all on a sailor’s salary besides. Old Mrs. Thompson and the children are cared for very diligently.”

Elizabeth was rebuked. She had heard the same, but at the time, she had not put much stock in her mother’s description of Lydia’s house. But Jane seemed to agree and described some details of Lydia’s good sense (!) and excellent planning(!) that Elizabeth had not remembered.

‘What madness is this?’ Elizabeth asked herself. 

***

Elizabeth sat in the Netherfield parlor, waiting on the arrival of her sister and mother the following afternoon. Today was Kitty’s last full day in Hertfordshire and Elizabeth regretted offering to host, instead of going to Longbourn herself. Though Mrs. Bennet and Kitty had promised to arrive by nine, it was now half after eleven, the day quite gone and Elizabeth still alone.

Finally, Elizabeth heard movement in the hall.

“Look who we found outside,” Mrs. Bennet announced as she entered Elizabeth’s parlor. Kitty walked in next, followed by a shy, dark head which peaked through the door. 

“Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth choked out, baffled. She sprang to her feet. “Please come in. I am, afraid I was very much not expecting you here.”

Mr. Darcy looked around the room before proceeding to stand quite alone in the middle of the floor. “Yes, I wrote to your brother, but he did not reply. Or rather, he may not have had a chance to reply yet. I came not long after my letter.”

Elizabeth requested that everyone sit; even Mr. Darcy, who was far from any chair.

"You are not too cold, I hope?” she inquired of all. “I shall call for some tea. It is excessively chilly today, after such nice weather as we have been having. Jane is upstairs, but will join us shortly. And Bingley is out calling in the neighborhood; though he is expected home for dinner.” 

“I am sorry for interrupting,” said Mr. Darcy, when she had finished.

“No, you are not interrupting at all. You are very welcome here.” 

“What brings you to Hertfordshire?” Mrs. Bennet asked, warming her hands with the tea cup when it arrived. “And what of your sister? We read the wedding announcement last week.” 

“Georgiana is very lately married, as expected,” Mr. Darcy confirmed. “She left on a ship three days ago for the continent.”

“Congratulations to your family,” Kitty told him. She was only learning about the match, but was familiar somewhat with Mr. Berklee. “Where will they honeymoon?”

Elizabeth was caught off guard by the easy conversation between her mother, sister, and guest. Mr. Darcy had hardly spoken with either Mrs. Bennet or Kitty when he was at Netherfield before. Their rapport today was without precedent. 

‘But no,’ Elizabeth thought, ‘that was five years ago. Mr. Darcy must have visited here while I was in still in Newcastle or Scotland. They all would have met again during that time.’

"I would be glad to tell you more about the wedding,” Mr. Darcy continued, “but I have a letter from Miss Zwick, my sister’s companion, that may contain some better description. She asked me to deliver it to you, Mrs. Wickham, when she heard that I would be coming here."

"Thank you” Elizabeth said, accepting the letter. Elizabeth opened and peaked at the contents, but found only a few brief sentences asking Jane and Elizabeth to remember Eleanor, to correspond with her whenever they found the time, and finally, a wish that they would all see each other again the following summer in London. 

"I must write her and ask for more wedding details," Elizabeth said, gesturing to show everyone how brief the letter was. "Were you lately with Miss Zwick?"

Darcy had been. "I left her yesterday at her parents’ home in Norfolk.” He went on to explain for Kitty and Mrs. Bennet’s benefit how Miss Zwick had been at Pemberley to help prepare Georgiana for her wedding. “When the ceremony was done, we all rode together to see Georgiana and Berklee board their ship. Then Miss Zwick and I continued on to her parents’ house." 

"That is a lot of traveling,“ Elizabeth sympathized. “I hope that Miss Zwick found her family well.” 

"I believe that Mr. Zwick is generally in poor health, but he was very happy to see his daughter. And Mrs. Zwick also. She told me at breakfast this morning how much she has heard about her daughter's friends. She mentioned you particularly, Mrs. Wickham, since she hears about you from Mrs. Wedgewood and Miss Zwick both." 

“Did you stay overnight in—oh, what was the town again?” Mrs. Bennet prompted.

"Yes, in Aylsham. Or rather, I stayed two nights there.”

"Oh?"

"The Zwicks have a son who was home on leave from the army. They were holding a dinner in his honor and Miss Zwick asked me to remain for it," he explained.

"I have not heard much of her brother," Elizabeth admitted. 

"I do not have much to share myself,” Mr. Darcy agreed. "He is closer in age to Mrs. Wedgewood than Miss Zwick and is bachelor. At the dinner he had many friends and family who desired his company. I perhaps should not have stayed."

"Oh no, I am sure that your presence was valued,” Elizabeth countered. “Miss Zwick has been a part of your household for several months now. She would have wanted…" Elizabeth tried to continue, but said instead, “Her mother would have wanted to know better the man whose house her daughter has been living in.”

Mrs. Bennet agreed, “as a mother.”

"What plans have you for Hertfordshire? How long will you stay?" Kitty wondered.

“I thought to stop and visit your brother Bingley since I was passing at an easy distance. I hope it will not be an encumbrance. He and I have a few things to speak of about the horse breeding, but I do not mean to remain long.” Then he asked Mrs. Tam about her husband and about her own plans in the area. When he learned that she would leave the next day he offered the services of his carriage. "I could take you to London, if you would like.”

Mrs. Bennet protested, “but sir, are you not on your way back to Derby? London is quite the wrong way.”

“It is not inconvenient to stop in town,” he insisted.

“I thank you, Mr. Darcy,” said Kitty, “but I have a rented carriage that must return with me.” 

Darcy nodded. “Then please give my regards to your husband. It is several years since I last had the honor of meeting him in person.”

Elizabeth thought that Mr. Darcy might be weary and wish to rest and refresh himself before dinner. When she suggested this to him, he thanked her and quickly left the ladies.


	24. Chapter 24

Mr. Darcy found Elizabeth several hours later, while the rest of the family was gone to change for the evening meal. Elizabeth had been directing the dinner service and he caught her alone in the hall before anyone else came down.

Quietly he spoke, “I should apologize to you again, Mrs. Wickham, for interrupting a family affair. It is hard, after all, to say goodbye when there are interlopers present.”

Elizabeth thought of Georgiana, and Eleanor, and even of the Berklee family, but it was impossible to tell if Mr. Darcy had any of them in mind when he spoke. “There is no need to apologize. You are familiar with Bingley and his habits. You know he and Jane prefer a full house.”

“The Bingleys are very accommodating—”

“—And we all hope that you are comfortable here.”

Dinner, when it began, was a pleasantly realized, unpretentious, and warm affair. Bingley  _ was _ happy to see Mr. Darcy and greeted him eagerly when they met at the table. Though it was not above three months since they had been in each others company, Bingley and Mr. Darcy had a great deal to say to each other and began immediately to discuss horses. Mr. Bennet arrived from Longbourn just as Mrs. Bennet was insisting that they begin dinner without him; but once her husband was there, she fussed to see that he was snug and comfortable after the cold, and now wet, drive. Kitty, Elizabeth, and Jane continued with an earlier discussion of London theater. 

After dinner, Misters Bingley, Bennet, and Darcy sat together with their port for an hour’s time, before the door finally opened again. The two younger men left for Bingley’s office saying they would only be gone a moment; Mr. Bennet declined to go with them and settled down with the ladies in the parlor. He took a chair nearby Elizabeth and Kitty and amused them with several stories. 

"You seem in a jolly mood," Elizabeth noted.

"I've had an excellent day,” he agreed. He inclined his head in the direction of the now empty door. "I quite like that friend of Bingley's. He suits me."

Kitty giggled and whispered, ”You did not say that the last time you and Mr. Darcy met."

"I've come around. He laughs at my jokes."

"He has flattered you!"

"As well he should.” 

So contented was everyone that instead of returning to Longbourn in the cold rain, the Bennets and Kitty were put up for the night at Netherfield. Elizabeth was gratified to see everyone happily settled and she made many little exertions the rest of the evening to ensure that they all remained so. Kitty threatened to retire early in deference to her next day’s travel plans, but Elizabeth gave her cups of mulled wine, and she lingered in the drawing room instead, long after her mother, and father, and Mr. Darcy, and finally Jane, had gone.

“You should come to Ireland,” Kitty told Elizabeth, who sat up with her. They shared a couch close to the dimming fire. “I am completely in earnest. You should visit before I leave the place.”

Elizabeth was not expecting an invitation like this and was in doubt. “That is very kind—though I should need to think on it. Lucy is not at an excellent age for traveling, though she is getting better, and—." She waved around the room vaguely as an excuse.

“You must. You have always wanted to travel. We ought to have planned earlier so you and Lucy could leave with me tomorrow, but we could still arrange for something in the coming months. Or, it may be simplest now to wait until I am next here. Then we can go the five of us: you, me, Mr. Tam, Lucy, and the new baby. It is an easy voyage, and our home a very easy distance from the port once we land. You would not find the going to be challenging at all.”

“We should consider it once you are back in Waterford. I would have to speak with Jane and you must speak with Mr. Tam. No one, after all, likes surprise guests.”

*** 

Mr. Darcy bid Kitty farewell at breakfast the next morning, and then quietly disappeared again while the family made the last of their goodbyes. Though the weather was clear, the morning was cold, and the family stood in the foyer while they waited for the coach to come around.

“Write to say how your journey has gone,” Elizabeth requested of her sister, as she helped her into her lined cloak. “And of course, with any other news.”

“Oh yes. And I will talk to Mr. Tam about your coming for a visit.”

Next, the children gave their aunt a little gift—a small flower woven out of straw that their nurse had helped them craft. “I shall miss you all,” Kitty said hugging each of them. Lucy cried, but not Frances.

“Come back soon with your baby,” Frances insisted. “Little Charles needs a friend!” 

Then Kitty left.

An hour later, after having disappeared to the back office since the departure of Kitty, Bingley reemerged. He found Elizabeth and Jane in their parlor, working to prepare the meal plan for the week 

“Darcy and I are going riding. Would you ladies care to join us?” Bingley asked.

Jane answered that she had rather not leave just now, and Elizabeth seconded, imagining that Bingley would be perfectly content with just one companion. But instead Bingley hesitated and pressed her again to change her mind.

“We are going to see a Mr. Edison, who is said to have a year old filly of very good blood. I shall want your opinion on if we like the creature,” Bingley coaxed. “With all the very fine note taking that you have done, you really have a most thorough grasp of our breeding plans.” 

Bingley was ever ready to like all of God's creatures, and would no doubt like this horse whether she was a good fit for the stable or not. What he was really asking was for Elizabeth to be his conscience. 

“If she fits our needs, I am ready to put money on her,” interceded Mr. Darcy, who having just come into the room, noticed Elizabeth’s hesitation. “Bingley, no doubt, has already put in enough resources for one season.”

Elizabeth desired to protest. It seemed that Mr. Darcy recalled her ill thought words this summer on the expense of horse racing. But it was Bingley who spoke first, suddenly panicked that Darcy might beat him to a desirable purchase.

Elizabeth found herself agreeing to go with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to justdreaming88 for reading this through and for letting me know that mulled wine, not hot cider, is an appropriate cold weather English drink.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting two chapters today because the first is so short. Enjoy!

An hour into the return journey home, Elizabeth still could not decide if she had made the correct decision in going. 

For one, this trip to Mr. Edison’s farm represented the furthest that she had ever ridden and she was beginning to understand how tired and sore she would be tomorrow. Though Bingley had mentioned an easy ride, once they were on their way, Elizabeth learned from Mr. Darcy that their destination was in Outford, twelve full miles from Netherfield! With the short winter days being what they were, that meant they could not hope to be home much before dark.

Beyond that, Elizabeth was unsure that she should have left Jane behind alone when there was work to be done. Beyond planning dinners, Jane would be thinking about entertainments for their guest. She would be sending out invitations to agreeable neighbors to make Mr. Darcy’s time in Hertfordshire more lively, in between looking in on the nursery. Elizabeth was well aware of her own proclivity to wander away from responsibilities, it being forward on her mind after hearing about Kitty’s travels. She reminded herself that it was a foolish indulgence to wander when the children and her dear Jane were still at home.

On the other hand, the trip to the farm may have been entirely worth it for a brief sight of the young horse alone. It was the prettiest creature that Elizabeth had laid eyes on in ages. Covered in a shiny roan coat, the year-old horse flew across the field to look closer at the arriving trio. Quicker than Elizabeth imagined possible from a half grown animal, it approached the near part of the fence, stretching its neck out to bob its head directly in front of them. Elizabeth let lose a squealing giggle, Bingley a cry of “Look at that!” and Darcy a very approving nod. 

Unfortunately, that was also when they discovered that the yearling was a colt.

“What do we do!” Bingley kept asking after they realized their mistake. The rumor that had brought them all this way had been wrong—the horse was not a filly, but a young male colt—and not what Darcy and Bingley were meant to take on. Their plans were built on having several good breeding mares each that could be paired with Berklee’s stud. Their plans did not include taking on another racing stallion, no matter how desirable. 

But Bingley was smitten and in a moment all his months of planning were forgotten. “Are you sure that we shouldn’t still think about making an offer on the animal? Did you see him run? He’s already faster than anything I own, and he will only get faster as he matures.” 

By then, the gentleman who owned the colt had noticed the visitors at his fence and was coming out to greet them. They were brought inside the manor and served tea by Mrs. Edison. There they talked of horses, even Elizabeth and Mrs. Edison, but no one mentioned the possibility of buying the foal. 

“Where is your colt’s dam?” Darcy asked.

Mr. Edison would be happy to show her to them before they went back on the road.

The dam was an older mare, still beautiful and healthy. “I’ll breed her again this spring,” the farmer said, proudly stroking her side, “though probably for the last time.” The colt, which had been wandering further afield, came back to stand at his mother’s side. 

And with that, a half an hour after their arrival, they must say goodbye.

Once on the main road Bingley began to debate the foal’s merits out loud. He perhaps decided that they were right to leave the colt, but that they should return when the time came, to see the new foal that Mr. Edison’s mare produced next year. But though Bingley came to the same conclusion several times over, even still he would sigh and then take up the subject again after a few minute’s break.

When they had gone far enough that they could not easily turn back around, Darcy did concede that he rather liked the animal. “I mean to watch for him in the races.” 

It was growing steadily colder now as the sun sunk low in the sky. It’s weak warmth was quickly absenting itself from the breezy air. Elizabeth’s own mare was pleasantly hot beneath her, but still she wished she had put on an extra pair of socks and brought a thicker set of gloves. Her fingers were growing sore in the cold air and her toes numb at her side.

When Elizabeth could no longer stand to hear of horses, or to think about her numbing hands, she interjected questions to Mr. Darcy about Col. Fitzwilliam. Had Mr. Darcy attended his cousin’s wedding to Miss Crenshaw? And were the Colonel and his wife able to attend Georgiana’s?

“We should break for ten minutes to water the horses,” was how Mr. Darcy chose to respond. Elizabeth recoiled out of habit, wondering why he did not like the question.

But once they stood by the side of the little brook, and Elizabeth was helped down from her horse, Mr. Darcy blandly took up the subject again. “Georgiana, Miss Zwick, and I were able to go to the Crenshaw's manor for Richard’s wedding day. Richard and his wife, however, are still traveling in Spain and could not attend us at Pemberley for Georgiana’s wedding. But the cousins have both made plans to meet on the continent, before they return to England in the summer.”

Elizabeth leaned against the side of her horse, tapping her feet to try and force warm blood to her tingling toes. “Did any of your other cousins make it to Pemberley? Or your Aunt and Uncle Matlock?”

“Yes, all the rest except Lord Scarsdale.”

“I’m sure your family missed him,” she thought it tactful to say. 

Bingley, being Darcy's confidant, could afford to be less tactful.

“Is he with Prinny in Scotland again? Richard told me he had been spending a lot of time there. Gambling, I suppose.” 

“Yes. And causing his wife and mother great pain.”

So the annoyance and anger Mr. Darcy had displayed with his eldest cousin at Georgiana’s debutante ball, was not merely of the moment, but a regular thing. Darcy continued, telling Bingley, “I offered my aunt that I would check on Lady Scarsdale and Miss Julia on my way back to Derby. But they would be better served by the involvement of their husband and father rather than their widowed cousin. As it is, I can only be attentive, and never at all useful.” 

Standing there by the cold riverbank, Elizabeth saw with sudden clarity what she had only felt before—that the marriage of Georgiana left Mr. Darcy very much alone. He had no wife or sister to give pretense to his being in mixed company. His female cousins could not be his friend, wrapped up as they were in their own trials. And his male cousins were, selfishly or not, taken up with other pursuits. Elizabeth’s empathy was provoked.

“Perhaps you should invite Col. Fitzwilliam and his wife to stay with you when they return? I know you enjoy the Colonel’s company and he has some obligation to attend you.”

Mr. Darcy looked blankly at her. “He is my aunt’s heir,” he reminded her, as if the Colonel could only honor the aunt or the cousin, and not both.

“Yes, exactly,” she countered. “Rosings is a great blessing for your cousin, but it is difficult for a new wife to live under an older matron. And though he must call on his mother and Lady Scarsdale, he cannot stay long with either his parents or brother. I dare say you would be doing him a favor by having him at Pemberley until the London season begins. Or failing that, if he must be in Kent, no doubt you could secure an invitation from your aunt to stay at her house. It is not so ideal, but then you and the Colonel could at least be of use to each other.”

Darcy nodded weakly after she finished speaking. He seemed mystified that she would take an interest in such things. Elizabeth blushed, but was empathetic. She and Darcy had so long acted out being distant acquaintances, and it was unnerving when one or the other suddenly broke rank and spoke intimately.

“It has been my habit to spend several weeks in Kent each spring,” he said, as if she were unaware. “It is likely that I will go again this year.”

“An excellent plan. Just what I would recommend.”

The horses finished drinking and after a few minutes of rest, Bingley helped Elizabeth back onto her mare.

“Are you warm enough?” Darcy asked Elizabeth, after she was settled. “We will not be at Netherfield before dark.”

Elizabeth was not, really. But it was only unpleasant, not unbearable; and there was nothing to be done about it besides. She thanked him for his concern.

***

The remainder of the journey passed quickly and soon Bingley, Elizabeth, and Darcy were back at home with Jane. Elizabeth was famished. The refreshments served in Mrs. Edison’s parlor seemed long ago when weighed against the cold exercise of the afternoon. And Elizabeth was not alone; though Bingley’s first words when they assembled at the table were about the beauty of the colt, his second were about his own mighty appetite and Jane’s goodness in having dinner readied.

Who can deny that a meal of mutton, and pigeons, and ragout of celery, and apple puffs is exactly what is wanted on a cold evening? Jane doted on each person at the dinner table, lavishing them with food and warm drinks, and admiring them for their day’s effort. By the second course, Elizabeth was pleasantly drowsy. The rest of the party was quieting also, lost in the pleasures of a satiated appetite. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Bingley, for your hospitality,” Darcy said, breaking the silence. “Every time I return you manage to make your home more inviting. You have made my stay most comfortable.”

“You aren’t leaving are you?” Jane protested. “So soon!”

“It was not my intention to linger and I can hardly impose longer when I came unannounced. And besides,” he continued when Jane looked ready to stop him, “I must spend some significant time in residence at Pemberley. I think it is obligatory, if one wants not to be thought a distant master. Especially now that Mrs. Berklee will not often be there to represent our family.”

“But should you not have a few more days rest? Your tenants will not have forgotten you, with the wedding so fresh in their minds,” said Elizabeth. 

Bingley threw in also for Darcy to remain. And his friend undoubtedly would have still insisted on keeping his plans if Bingley were less persistent.

“I so rarely see you anymore!” Bingley complained about Darcy before starting on the rest of their friends. 

“That is hardly true.” Mr. Darcy contested, but conceded anyway to Bingley’s greater point. “I suppose I might delay by one or two days—“

It was settled and the happy party retired to the drawing room. Elizabeth took a book, but did not attend to it.

“You certainly have a lot of friends from Harrow,” Elizabeth commented to Mr. Darcy later, when the ease of the evening was full upon them all. Bingley and Darcy had been talking about business with Mr. May and some other gentleman and Elizabeth wanted to be a little involved.

Darcy furrowed his brow, not convinced. "I attended Eton. But yes, I know many men from Harrow. London is full of them."

"Oh yes, I remember now. Forgive my mixup." She knew that gentlemen took their commitment to their public schools very seriously—at least Bingley did about his own in the north. "I admit though, I have only mentioned it because I am jealous. Gentlemen are all very lucky. You meet so many interesting people in school. What a chance to learn about the world."

"There are schools for ladies also."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Do you really think those places are interesting? Can there be anything to know from the girls that go to them? I have no experience in it myself, but I only imagine young ladies who have been cloistered away at a young age. One might find a bosom friend at a girl's school, but there cannot be much variety of character there."

"You are asking a lot out of any group of youths, be they male or female, to have a well developed character at that age. At Eton at least, the young men were only as varied as any collection of people from across the country who have all lived their lives under very similar circumstances, might be. Even the most brief trip abroad would illuminate more differences. You would get more variety from reading a good book."

Elizabeth smiled. "You are right, of course. But I like hearing about your friends; and also my imagination's version of what a boarding school must be like."

"You could ask Georgiana about a lady's school. She was five years at one.”

"I shall when next I am able.”

“Have another glass of port, Darcy,” Bingley offered, interrupting.

He took it but did not drink until Elizabeth excused herself for the evening.

***

Elizabeth was full asleep when a bustling in the halls roused her. Thinking to go and look in on the children, she put on a dressing gown and went out. The children were all sleeping but on her return trip she saw a distressed looking Mr. Darcy speaking quietly with a servant. 

“Sir?” asked Elizabeth when Darcy looked up at her.

“It is a post from my aunt, Lady Matlock,” Darcy told her, lifting a letter. His frown deepened, “My uncle died yesterday morning.”

Elizabeth drew breath sharply. She thought of the distinguished man when she had seen him, surrounded by his family at the ball. “Had he been poorly?”

Darcy looked at the letter again, to spur some memory. “No. It had been a hard winter,” Darcy remembered, “but no, this is quite sudden. There was no one at home save my aunt.”

“And she is alone still?”

He nodded. “My cousins are being recalled from the far ends of Christendom. But I cannot leave tonight.” Darcy said, thinking through his options audibly.

“You cannot,” Elizabeth confirmed. “You must wait for morning when you can ride safely and without impediment. Come and sit. Let me have you some tea brought.”

“There is some just here,” Darcy pointed into the drawing room where they sat earlier.

Elizabeth went inside and checked that the tea was still warm. It was, but cooling quickly, so she went to have another kettle heated. She brought it back and poured Darcy a cup.

“They are not ready for it.”

“No, of course not," she said, not asking who he meant.

“Walter must be roused from Scotland, Richard recalled from Spain, and Diana from the Amsterdam. Only Walter will make it for the funeral. My aunt will not be ready to make plans, nor to help Cousin Susan take on the running of the house. My uncle was not always kind or even wise, but he kept order in the family which will now fall to pieces. I am only glad that Georgiana is gone to Italy.

“Goodness, Georgiana! Do you want to write her? I will bring you a pen and paper.”

Darcy hesitated. “No,” he decided. “I will write when I am back in Matlock perhaps. There is no reason to hurry the message. She must not come back before spring.”

Elizabeth wondered how Georgiana would feel being denied the chance to mourn with her family. But it was not her choice to make.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam will be relieved to know that you are going to help his mother.”

“He and Mrs. Fitzwilliam are expecting their first child.”

“Oh! I hadn’t heard that.” 

“A child who my uncle will now never meet.”

Elizabeth understood Darcy’s particular pain in that. Even Elizabeth saw that Lord Matlock seemed more fond of his grandchildren than his children.

Darcy slipped into contemplative silence, which Elizabeth joined him in until eventually she thought she must excuse herself. 

Darcy apologized. “I don’t know if I will have the opportunity to take my leave of you and Mrs. Bingley in the morning, because of my early departure. Will you please give my regards to her? She has been very kind.”

“I will. And please give ours to Col. Fitzwilliam and the rest of your family.”

Elizabeth did not try to to bid Darcy farewell again in the morning, but she listened to his carriage readying in the pre-dawn mist.


	26. Chapter 26

The funeral of the Earl of Matlock was written of in the newspapers that were delivered regularly to Netherfield from London. In them it was announced that the services were held with a large number of mourners; that lamentably, only one of the late Earl’s children was able to attend him; and that the Lord's eldest son, Walter Fitzwilliam the younger, formerly called Viscount Scarsdale would inherit the title and estate.

Elizabeth reminded Bingley and Jane that they must write to express their condolences. Jane and Elizabeth would draft the letter to Lady Matlock; but Bingley would need to write Darcy in his own hand. 

“Certainly, it must be you!” Elizabeth insisted, when Bingley dithered. “Lord Walter was a second father to Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Darcy cares far less about us than about you.” 

This all happened the second week of January. Several dirty and cold months followed. 

Spring, that favored of seasons, eventually returned in the form of longer, warmer days and a steady increase in the number of letters received by the ladies of Netherfield from their friend Eleanor Zwick. The winter season in Miss Zwick’s little village in Norfolk was perhaps quieter than Jane and Elizabeth's own, and the girl now begged for whatever attention they could give.

“She hasn’t three babies to care for," Elizabeth reminded her sister after reading the latest, insistent letter aloud over the din of the playing children. But Elizabeth was sensitive to the qualities of longing and discontent that Eleanor wrote in to her words. Despite her apparent ennui, and working from only her very limited sphere, Eleanor gave excellent narrative accounts of all that she saw and heard, and happily relayed the latest news collected from any of their common acquaintances. To Elizabeth's surprise this included Georgiana Berklee, who they learned had written Eleanor at least three times since arriving in Italy.

_ "Mrs. Berklee has convinced me of the merits of travel. The images that she conjures on dry paper are alive in my imagination. Right now, I long to bade my mother and father farewell, journey forth, and send each of you my own letters and stories from abroad," _Eleanor wrote to them once in February.

Elizabeth found she approved of this bit of wanderlust.

_ "I am no less excited this year than last to be due for London,” _ Eleanor claimed in another letter in March. _ "Coming to town last summer was about anticipation and wonder. This year is far better; this year, I know I have the best of friends waiting and society that suits me." _

It was only in the month of April, after a late Easter, when those good friends of Eleanor’s were finally brought back together. As usual, it was Mrs. May who claimed the privilege of hosting the first dinner for the Cambridge group. 

It was a stormy night in London, and one by one, pair by pair, each of the old friends popped up like a spring mushroom from the dark, and walked into the parlor at the May residence. Elizabeth was still greeting her hostess when Miss Zwick came into the room.

“My goodness!” Mrs. May exclaimed loudly over her shoulder, with approval. Eleanor was radiant! She positively glowed with cheer and was almost maddeningly pretty once she had shed her dark coat. The girl had obviously put great thought into her appearance and dress for this first evening and Elizabeth couldn’t help but take a step back to admire her. 

Miss Zwick came escorted by Mr. Darcy, who just that day had conveyed her in his coach from her home in Norfolk. She was now to be transferred to the care of Georgiana Berklee; or rather, that was the plan before the logistics had gone awry. Though the Berklees were meant to proceed their friends to town by several days, there was no word of them or their ship from France yet. Instead Eleanor must now stay with the Bingleys. Or, Mrs. May protested, Eleanor had better sleep in her guest room instead—no need at all for her to leave! 

While these greetings were made, Mr. Darcy acknowledged the Bingley party, including Elizabeth, with a smile. He seemed genuinely pleased to see her. 

Elizabeth smiled back at him and was happy to think that they were friends now—and not only in the manner of those who spend time together in the same room. "I suppose we have at last properly reconciled," she thought contentedly.

"It is good to see you again, Mrs. Wickham.” Mr. Darcy took her hand when he bowed.

"And you sir." Wanting to encourage him further, she offered, "If you have time later, Jane and I should like to hear how your foals have done so far this year.”

He nodded. "I have good news for Bingley. I will tell you about it if you do not find it too dull."

"Indeed we will not sir," Elizabeth assured him. “As you saw in January, we are growing into modest experts ourselves, learning as Bingley does." 

"No, no, Mr. Darcy," Eleanor interrupted. She stood near them still and took Elizabeth by the arm. "Mrs. Wickham is my friend and I must insist on having her to myself.” She turned them away, and within a few minutes she succeeded in maneuvering Elizabeth to the corner of a nearby coach, Mr. Darcy to the other corner, and herself to the middle. 

“Ask me how many times I have danced since returning to my parent’s house,” Eleanor bade Elizabeth. “None! Not once could I assemble three ladies and the same number of gentlemen in the same place. Can you believe such a town exists anywhere?”

She said the last to Darcy as much as to Elizabeth, and continued her conversation with both of them. “Mrs. Wickham will empathize with me, despite not dancing all that time herself. But she could have, if she had less to mourn. Her sacrifice is noble, mine barbaric.”

Eleanor then looked at Elizabeth so expectantly, that the older woman decided the correct response was not just to sympathize, but to offer to play piano for dancing later that night.

“Oh, could we?” Eleanor asked.

“You will need Mrs. May on your side, but that should be easy enough,” answered Elizabeth.

Eleanor turned again to Mr. Darcy. “You would dance, Mr. Darcy, would you not, if given the chance?”

He politely answered yes after he saw Elizabeth smile encouragingly.

“Then I shall extract Judith’s promise,” Eleanor declared, calling Mrs. May over.

Miss Zwick did not get her wish from Mrs. May. Neither did Mrs. May from Miss Zwick, for just at that moment the newly wedded Berklees were announced to great acclaim.

“Well,” said Mrs. May, as Eleanor rushed passed her, “I suppose it doesn’t much matter that she will go with Mrs. Berklee tonight after all. We shall all be so often together.”

Mr. Darcy stood also; and catching his sister’s arm, he gave her an embrace befitting their long separation. Mr. Berklee explained that their ship had been delayed from sailing by a storm in Calais.

Georgiana carried with her on one arm a wicker basket topped with a lid and a bow. Elizabeth realized that she was now acquiring Mrs. May's permission to bring something forth from it—a small yellow kitten.

"What is this?" Eleanor cried, delighted at the mewing creature.

"It is a kitten," Georgiana answered ingenuously. "She was a gift from my Mr. Berklee. And from the captain on the _ Theseus _ also. We found her in our room the night that we set sail.”

Elizabeth would have expected a ship's cat to be a little wild, but this one sat in perfect, still contentment in Georgiana's arms, pleased to be out of the basket and to be stroked.

"Thank you for letting me bring her in," Georgiana told Mrs. May, "I did not want to leave her in the coach and risk losing her in the night."

Mrs. May’s husband, on the other hand, looked unimpressed with the appearance of the animal; but really, the cat was a happy bit of brilliance for Georgiana. While the company mingled and conversed, she was able to kiss and coddle the cat and appeared much less strained by her surroundings than Elizabeth had ever seen her before. She was comfortable enough even for a rather lively, public retelling of the past six months of her life. 

Georgiana was, perhaps, a better storyteller in writing than in person. But even if that were not so, she had at least been able to give Eleanor enough information for the second lady to compose a workable narrative about her travels for the amusement of the party. 

Elizabeth laughed and was entertained. And she was impressed by Eleanor's ability to make it seem that Georgiana had an equal part in the telling of the tale. It was obvious the two had grown very close. Mr. Berklee was no confounding factor—he contentedly let the ladies do the work of speaking. Elizabeth helped where she might by asking probing questions and encouraged the Bingleys and the Mays to be involved by seconding their comments. It was a lively discussion with Georgiana happily at its center, and Eleanor its raconteur. 

"And what is your opinion, Mr. Darcy?" Eleanor asked, when the tale was done and they were all seated for dinner. Mr. Darcy sat opposite Eleanor and, at her side, Elizabeth. "Do you prefer the modern cities or the ancient?"

Mr. Darcy gestured away from himself. "You should ask Bingley or May instead. I am afraid I have not been abroad beyond Amsterdam, so my answer would only be speculation."

Eleanor turned her head in surprise. "Oh yes, I suppose you have had many responsibilities. Do you still hope to take the grand tour some day?"

"I would, if the opportunity presents itself. Or I might travel to some other place."

"Where would you go instead? The Canadas?” Elizabeth asked. 

“To Northern Africa, perhaps. Or the Levant,” he answered.

“Truly!” Eleanor practically squealed in delighted surprise. 

Elizabeth was diverted. "That is more distant and novel travel than we expected," she explained on behalf of herself and Eleanor. "Do you know anyone who has gone there?"

“Yes, a few school friends.” Mr. Darcy looked a little embarrassed, but kept talking. “They were there ten years ago, before the Greek revolution. Before that we were at Eton and Cambridge together. "

"Hah, you are talking about Miller and Von Hennin,” Mr. May interrupted. "I believe Von Hennin was nearly thrown off by his family for that caper. He was too involved in that revolution for their liking.”

"I don't believe they ever got on—Von Hennin and his noble German family," said Berklee, clarifying. 

Bingley added, “That is why he lives in London and not in Munich."

This began a general reminiscing between the four gentlemen about Col. Daniel Miller and Lord Jonatan Von Henin; they were an unconventional and wild pair, Elizabeth came to understand. 

“Your cousin went also to Greece, did he not?” May asked Darcy.

“No, Richard did all of his campaigning in Spain.”

“You know that I am talking of Scarsdale, that is, the new Lord Matlock. And what has that devil been doing since inheriting? Is he still making your life miserable?”

Darcy scowled. And after looking quickly over at his sister, he replied, “No. My happiness is not at stake by him. But he and the executor find ways to antagonize each other at every chance. His sister, Mrs. Diana De Vreis, went back to Amsterdam and took his wife and daughter with her, out of spite. That leaves Richard to travel between Matlock and Kent when he can bear it. And even this puerile peace will end when they are all inevitably back in London within the month.”

This was a lot of new information for Eleanor, who when faced with these sorts of complicated situations still made it her practice to open her eyes wide and listen intently like an ingenue. She would, of course, have heard about the death of old Lord Matlock, but nothing at all from Georgiana about the conflict between family members.

“They have not supported each other? Even in this time of great need?” she whispered to Elizabeth, shocked. 

“It is a pity,” Elizabeth agreed. Then, because Darcy’s happiness was at stake, she moved to steer the conversation elsewhere.


	27. Chapter 27

While in London, Elizabeth and the nursemaid returned to their habit of taking the children out to walk in the park at Portman Square each day. They were preparing to return home one afternoon when Elizabeth heard the cry of a lady’s voice from the nearest carriage lane. It was Mrs. May driving a gig with Georgiana and Eleanor.

“Miss Frances!” Mrs. May called, “fetch your Aunt Wickham for me! Tell her I must speak with her.” 

“Yes, ma’am!” said Frances, and with that task she ran across the park and grabbed her aunt’s hand. Elizabeth came back with her to stand near the parked carriage.

“Imagine meeting you here!” Mrs. May looked very pleased. “How I miss the days of going to the park with the children.” Had Mrs. May truly liked going to the park with her son before he went away to school? Elizabeth could not say, but the place was bustling with people and noisy with the sharp cries of children and the mellow tutting of nursemaids—the sort of busy setting where Mrs. May might be happy. But today the lady was very excited to see Miss Jenny come walking with Lucy and Charles. 

“Miss Jenny is still with you, of course. And what an angel she is. She was my little Andrew’s nursemaid for a time before she went over to the Bingley’s,” Mrs. May explained for the benefit of Georgiana and Eleanor. “I would like to speak with her when it is convenient, to tell her how the boy is doing in school. He wrote a letter to her recently which I must deliver. Now Eliza, you will wonder why we are driving around town like this. We just went to call at Mrs. Berklee’s brother’s house, but he was not at home. Then we thought we would call on you and Mrs. Bingley next, but here you are instead.”

“Jane is at home presently, and Miss Jenny and I were returning at just this minute. You are welcome to drive ahead, if you would like.”

“Is Mr. Darcy calling on your brother?” Miss Zwick asked. “Georgiana most particularly wants to see him.” 

Elizabeth shook her head. “Only if he arrived while I’ve been out.”

Georgiana and Eleanor both looked disappointed. But the three ladies went ahead anyway in their carriage. Elizabeth and Miss Jenny did not rush the children and made their way home at the speed one can move with small children. Once they arrived, Elizabeth asked Miss Jenny to have the children’s clothes changed and then to make their way down to the parlor. By having the children visit the adults, Mrs. May and Miss Jenny could have a little time to talk about young Master May while they all took tea. Then Elizabeth changed her own dress and went to her visitors.

Mr. Darcy, it turned out, had been visiting Bingley afterall. Now he was sitting on a sofa, between Georgiana to his left and Miss Zwick to his right. He was turned to face his sister, speaking to her in a low voice. Elizabeth curtsied to everyone in the room and then went to the other sofa by Jane.

The taking of tea and biscuits was interrupted again after a few minutes by the appearance of the children. Frances, Lucy, and Charles came dancing, walking, and toddling into the room, followed by a bashful Miss Jenny. The children ran to their mothers, leaving Miss Jenny to join Mrs. May when she beckoned. 

“Let me tell you of young Master Andrew! What a spring it has been!”

While they were talking, Lucy asked her mother to lift her. Elizabeth leaned over to pick her up and in doing so caught Mr. Darcy's eye. He was been sitting quietly, making no effort to stay part of the busy conversation around him. Elizabeth shifted herself to the end of the sofa, closer to Mr. Darcy and making additional room for Lucy to sit between her mother and aunt Jane. 

"Your daughter has grown a great deal since I saw her last," Mr. Darcy told Elizabeth.

"They sprout up like weeds, do they not?" Elizabeth answered him. Then she looked down at Lucy. "My dear, can you say 'how do you do?' to our friend Mr. Darcy."

Lucy would, but very quietly, and into her mother's bosom. She was rather shyer than her older cousin, who Elizabeth instructed to do the same. Frances looked Mr. Darcy straight in the eye as she spoke.

"Miss Lucy looks more like you now than she did when she was younger. Rather more."

"That is kind of you to point out. I am used to being told how much she looks like her father. Or that she looks like Jane. Or sometimes even like Bingley." Elizabeth laughed.

“How lucky that you have Lucy to remind you of your late husband,” said Miss Zwick, who had been listening.

“I am often surprised at how she reminds me of him, and also, how she differs. Luckily, I think, she is turning out prettier than either of her parents. And she is certainly cleverer. And far, far less naughty." 

She kissed her daughter's head and then added, "It may astonish you both to learn but I was not always as well behaved as I am now."

Mr. Darcy did not respond directly, but raised his eyebrows. Elizabeth smiled back so that he would know she was teasing.

“Your husband was fairer of hair than you, I take it,” Miss Zwick said, referencing Lucy’s light colored locks.

“He was,” Elizabeth acknowledged.

Darcy then commented that, "all three cousins have the same eyes. It is a strong family resemblance. And a Bennet one—not from Bingley or your husband.”

Elizabeth looked at the children to be sure. "You must be correct." 

She took another quick look around the room and saw that Mrs. May was finishing her conversation with Miss Jenny. Elizabeth then spoke louder to everyone, "They are a bit young for exhibiting, but shall we have a song out of the children? Miss Jenny teaches them tunes I never heard in Hertfordshire. Still, I expect they might be familiar to some in this room. Would that be agreeable?"

It was, and Mrs. May sang along. Darcy claimed to know the song also, saying "it was commonly heard in Derbyshire." 

When the verses were finished (the children knew three) Miss Jenny looked proudly at them and then she began the goodbyes, for, ”the children must rest before their supper."

“Isn’t she a dream,” Mrs. May cooed when they had gone. “Miss Jenny often sends little things to my Andrew, to let him know that she has not forgotten him. One of my proudest achievements is getting Mrs. Bingley to hire her when he left for school. What an improvement over that terrible nursemaid she had before. Have I ever told you that story?” Mrs. May asked Eleanor and Georgiana. “It will be a lesson to you, for when you hire your own nursemaids.”

She went on to tell a story of Jane’s first nursemaid, a young woman who on her day off went to visit her family and returned with a letter from a young man. The letter was kept by the girl for some months, until it was found one day when Mrs. May was visiting her friend at Netherfield. 

“And for that you let her go?” asked Eleanor surprised. She realized immediately that she was speaking out of turn and quickly hushed herself, but not before Mrs. May understood that she did not approve. 

“You know that Mrs. Bingley has too sweet of a soul to find fault in her nanny. Indeed, I do not think that she could have accomplished the separation at all without the help of myself and Mrs. Bennet. But really, how could you trust a nursemaid who wants so badly to be married. Her crying was very unconvincing.”

Elizabeth did not like the story either, but said, “we are very lucky to have Miss Jenny with us now. I can hardly imagine anyone else taking better care of the children.” 

Everyone decided to be satisfied by this and very soon Mrs. May announced that she, Eleanor and Georgiana must go. Though they had another definite engagement, Eleanor moved slowly, lingering a while. 

Once they’d gone, Mr. Darcy made to leave also, but was asked three times, once by each Mr. Bingley, Mrs. Bingley, and Elizabeth, to stay on for dinner. Since the idea was agreeable to all, he remained after his sister’s departure.


	28. Chapter 28

Dinner at the May's had been the first engagement of the season; but the first large event came a week after—a large May Day ball. Elizabeth had rather enjoyed the affair when she attended before, and particularly looked forward to sharing it with Eleanor who had come too late the previous year. “It will be a crush, but that is half the fun,” Mrs. May described it to Eleanor with a wink. “The variety and color of the characters will certainly impress you.”

Bingley even thought that the previously discussed Col. Miller and Lord von Hennin, might be in attendance. "Berklee described them a bit scandalously at dinner," Bingley told Elizabeth, "but they are good fellows. You know Darcy would not approve of them otherwise."

Elizabeth shook her head to contradict him. "Mr. Darcy has surprised me with both his liberality and his hypercriticalism. I hardly know how to use his approval to classify anyone, let alone these two obviously complicated men."

"Then I will say no more. You must judge them for yourself, if you can," he advised her. 

The May Day ball, being the elevated affair that it was, meant that there was call for new gowns. At the modiste, Elizabeth looked at a rather beautiful blue silk, but thought it too similar to the color that Eleanor and Alice Crenshaw had so favored the year before. Besides, it was rather expensive. She wore yellow instead, in a dress cut properly for a matron.

The ball was held in assembly rooms made up of a series of long connected halls, some large and fit for dancing, other small for drinking punch or playing at cards. Elizabeth began by mingling with her sister and Bingley, but they soon lost Jane to some rather dull company. 

"I've spotted him there," Bingley drew Elizabeth’s attention with a nod towards an unfamiliar man standing across the room in an officer's coat. "If you want a chance to talk with Col. Miller, I'll take you."

"I'm not sure what I've said to make you think that I must meet the man."

"But you are curious about him?"

"Oh, of course," Elizabeth said, laughing. "But you and I should not encourage each other in that regard.” 

Bingley did anyway and walked with her towards the gentleman. "Miller! " He greeted his friend before introducing Elizabeth as his wife's sister. With perfect ease and little effort, Bingley then found a way to excuse himself, leaving Elizabeth behind.

Elizabeth tried to hide her vexation. Bingley had not told her that he meant to leave and now the poor Colonel would think that she had ambitions upon him. She blushed as she turned back to answer the man’s polite questions. 

"So you are Mrs. Bingley's sister? I should have guessed it."

"I did not think that you and my sister were acquainted."

“We are not," the Colonel admitted dryly. "But I have seen her across a room and have heard her much described in company."

"Indeed." Elizabeth said, brow turning down.

Col. Miller looked amused at himself, but then seemed to recognize his mistake in Elizabeth’s expression. He shook his head.

"Forgive me Mrs. Wickham. If I had a sister like that I would be protective also. You should know, Mrs. Bingley is described as being uncommonly and intuitively kind; as having refined taste in dress; and as possessing expressive eyes. It was not hard to match the two of you."

"You are mistaken sir; for I share at best, only one of those attributes."

The conversation might have ended there, but because he was diverted and not offended, they continued talking. “You must forgive Bingley and I. We were speaking of Greece recently and he said that his friend from school had been there," Elizabeth said, gesturing at the Colonel. “How did you come to travel there?”

Col. Miller started to answer but was distracted, as Elizabeth was, by a loud disturbance.

From across the room Elizabeth heard a piercing voice with clear words say, "…Wickham, that scoundrel! What's he to do with this good assembly?" 

The volume of the crowded room dropped markedly, to Elizabeth's mortification. And everyone, though they may have missed the earlier words would have heard Miss Zwick's angry reply: "Mr. Roan you must stop! Your words are very inappropriate! Captain Wickham is honorably deceased, and his widow is present in this very room!"

Finally unfreezing, Elizabeth peaked over her shoulder to see a stranger turn an awful shade of red in the confusion of being scolded so soundly. She saw Miss Zwick standing on the arm of Mr. Darcy, who immediately began to try and blunt the situation, his words coming quick and low, but not audible to Elizabeth at the distance. But nothing he said stopped Mr. Roan from fleeing out the door, while Miss Zwick glared angrily at his back.

Elizabeth’s face was burnt red. Se let out a breath slowly, and then finding her strength, she asked Col. Miller to please excuse her. The Colonel nodded and without a word, stepped to the side so that she could pass. Every mind in the room was fixed on the unexpected scene, and anyone who knew her watched each step as Elizabeth crossed to Darcy and Eleanor. She rebuked herself for wanting to flee out the door. Coward. Craven. It was her duty to help put the room back at ease and she could only do that my taking no offense and showing no emotion.

“It is my fault, I am afraid,” Mr. Darcy was telling Miss Zwick, while looking around until he caught Elizabeth’s eye. “All my school friends knew that Wickham and I were rivals. Mr. Roan, I doubt, has even been acquainted with Capt. Wickham.”

“I can hardly believe that anyone could be so crass,” Eleanor steamed. Then finally listening to Mr. Darcy’s mea cap, she reminded him that, “rivals or not, you have never failed so utterly in your manners!”

“Misunderstanding happen,” Elizabeth said just a little too loudly.

“Please pardon me,” Mr. Darcy begged her, “I shall return immediately, but I must find Mr. Roan.”

“Elizabeth nodded, and forced a little smile. When Darcy had gone, she tried to be lively with Miss Zwick, but her energy was disappeared entirely. To hide it, she soon let Eleanor go away and dance while she found a chair where she could sit, not listening to Jane nearby. In this manner she spend half an hour without thought and was roused when Col. Miller returned again to engage with her. He brought with him two cups of punch.

“I’ve not seen you on the dance floor tonight,” he said, turning her away from the room. 

“No sir. I am not dancing,” Elizabeth answered, trying to wake herself from a state of insensibility.

The Colonel nodded and without prompting fell into a narrative about his journey to Greece. With effort, Elizabeth could follow the story well enough to ask a few polite questions.

“I have not met your friend,” Elizabeth admitted to the Colonel after hearing for some time about his and Lord Von Hennin’s adventures.

“When we are next in company together I will introduce you,” he promised. “He will be sad to have missed you.” Elizabeth was embarrassed again, thinking that the Colonel was referring to the earlier commotion. But Miller continued, saying, “Von Hennin does not make friends without effort, so I try to be selective about who I introduce him to—mostly kind women, with refined taste, and expressive eyes.”

"That is thoughtful of you," Elizabeth said, feeling at a loss for sensible answer. Certainly nothing about her conversation tonight revealed much to recommend her. 

"Perhaps you will come to one of our literary salons," he began to tell her, but they were then interrupted by Mr. Darcy. He approached looking harried.

"Forgive me for not finding you earlier," Darcy said to Elizabeth. "I have been until this moment engaged. I was trapped in conversation, and then had promised a dance to Miss Zwick. But I came as soon as it ended." There was nothing to forgive, of course, Mr. Darcy being under no obligation to Elizabeth, and her reminding him as much.

"I was just telling Mrs. Wickham about my salons," Col. Miller informed Darcy. "I am beginning them again this next week. Why don't you attend and bring this lady?"

Darcy frowned. "I am not her guardian, Miller," he said crossly.

“Bring Mrs. Bingley too, of course,” Miller said. "Bring Bingley as well, if you must; though he has never been eager to return."

Darcy said he would try, though he could not feign thinking it important at this moment.

Elizabeth was grateful to Col. Miller for all his attentions that evening, and especially for choosing that moment to excuse himself and leave her and Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth was confused by the exchange between the men but much more so by the entire course of the night. 

"Did you find your friend?" she asked about Mr. Roan. It was no good ignoring the subject most mutually relevant.

"No, he had gone straight away. I hope you will not think too meanly of him. Unlike some people, he is not even particularly given to speaking out of turn like that."

"Poor man."

They both shifted about, shaking their heads, agreeing on nothing more complicated than that it was all very unfortunate.

"Can I tell you something of Wickham and I?" Darcy asked her eventually. He looked pained.

Elizabeth frowned further. "You need not. I know that you two were not fond of each other."

"Yes, but I doubt even he knew exactly why."

If the story must be told, then Elizabeth would listen. She buttressed herself on the back of the nearest piece of furniture. ”Alright then."

"Wickham and I grew up together at Pemberley. He was the elder by two years and of course faster, stronger, smarter, and better at all things as older children are. He was also godson to my father. But when we were young we played together daily and I did not think of him then as anything more serious than an occasional bully. 

“But I remember quite clearly how it changed. It was after my mother died. I was twelve years old and, I think, grieving as any young man might do. But my father worried for me. He came to me as I sat one day and said that I would do well to take young Wickham as my model. _ He _ had no mother either and was flourishing. _ He _ never moped about or sat in sorrow. 

“I remember how angry I was then—that my father should suggest that I try to forget my mother, and that if I did particularly well at this, that I would be lucky to turn out like this boy I did not much esteem. It infuriated me and I am afraid that I went out of my way for years after that to make Wickham's life more difficult. I was quite heartless in the way children are when they think they are meting out justice. And as I grew older, I had many ways to accomplish this, being also the young master of the house. I made sure that everyone around knew his every failing. You will find it no wonder that we could not be friends as adults with this as our foundation. 

“When we were at Eton together all the boys in my class knew him from my words as a rogue. An older boy from his own class would no doubt talk about him very differently."

"Thank you for telling me this," said Elizabeth.

"Is it something that you already knew?"

"No. George never said anything like that."

"How did he describe it?"

Elizabeth tried to smile. "Not in ways that I should repeat."

"That is not surprising," Darcy admitted. He looked at her, searchingly. "Again, I am very sorry, Mrs. Wickham. I have caused this and I will try to set it right if I can."

But what could be undone when it is witnessed by so many?

"If you can help your friend to not be embarrassed that would be enough. He took the worser end of it than I. Please assure him that I hold no ill feelings towards him———and none towards yourself."

Darcy said he would, but left the room feeling disappointed and very sorry at the affair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another thank you to justdreaming88 for reading and editing. There would be far more dropped quotation marks in this chapter without her good eye :)


	29. Chapter 29

Miss Zwick would bring up the subject of Mr. Roan again the next time she and Georgiana saw Elizabeth. The ladies had taken the unusual step of walking together that morning on their way to call at Mrs. May’s house.

“I think you are far too forgiving,” Eleanor insisted. She stood in the middle, with Elizabeth and Georgiana each on an arm. “Mr. Roan did himself a great disservice and showed himself to be of poor character speaking like that.”

Elizabeth was forced to say that, “the gentleman’s mortification was beyond sufficient to my needs. Besides, Mr. Darcy quite explained the confusion.” 

This did not satisfy Miss Zwick at all. “Mr. Darcy can forgive his friend, as it is proper for a gentleman to do; but I would not be so complacent if my beloved were dirtied that way in public. Your husband cannot defend himself, so you must!”

“You have the right of things; but as I said, Mr. Darcy knew why Mr. Roan spoke the way he did and promised that he would set things right with his friend. I have not such depth of character that I can hold onto anger while at the same time sincerely hoping that the man can be reconciled. Today I must limit myself to doing the later.”

“You are a good woman,” Georgiana told her. Eleanor would not say that she agreed.

Eleanor let off the subject only when they entered Mrs. May’s house. Elizabeth enjoyed a moment of respite, while that lady greeted and seated her friends. It was a relief to eat biscuits and have the narrative focused elsewhere. But they had only been there a few minutes when Mr. May hurried passed the room. Mrs. May called to him, but he would not stop, telling her, "I am going to the club. Don't expect me back soon. I'm taking dinner there."

"Have you canceled with Lord Hardinge?” Mrs. May asked him, confused. "You have an appointment with him this afternoon."

Mr. May had not remembered this and turned very peevish. Elizabeth had the impression that he well might have cursed if there were not guests present in the room

"Bah. So now I must cancel my plans? That is what you are saying?” he fumed. “I don’t see why I should when I am only meeting with Lord Hardinge because you insisted I must.”

Elizabeth thought this was a ridiculous reaction, and Mrs. May, of course, saw the unfairness of it.

"I did not ask for you to meet with him!” she protested. "It was for our son's sake you wanted to go. But yes, you must at least send him a message if you are to cancel!"

Mr. May chose to storm away instead of answer. It was very much to Elizabeth's relief that the door slammed shut.

"I did not like that," Eleanor ventured when she, Elizabeth, and Georgiana left the house. "Mr. May could not seriously think that it was his wife's fault that he had made two appointments in one day. I could not bear it if my husband spoke to me that way.”

Georgiana shook her head. "No, I could not bear it either." She though, meant it differently than Eleanor.

***

Elizabeth was surprised to see Georgiana at her doorstep several hours later. Georgiana was not expected, and even stranger, she had neither Miss Zwick nor Mrs. May at her side.

"Mrs. Wickham," she asked with a formal bow, "do you have a moment?"

Elizabeth had been called down from helping prepare the children for their dinner, and was put on alert by Georgiana’s tense expression. ”Do you want some tea first?" Elizabeth asked, inviting Georgiana to sit, and wondering what this meant.

Georgiana did not. She would continue with her purpose, she said, while she still had the courage. "I find myself compelled to apologize to you and to admit a wrong that I have done and very long hid from you."

Elizabeth gave her permission to continue, though she wished instead that Georgiana would stay silent. 

"I heard what was said by Mr. Roan at the May Day ball, and its weight has compelled me to come here and tell you something that has been long on my mind.”

Georgiana sighed painfully then continued, ”You are Mrs. Wickham—“ She shook her head and tried again. "What I mean is, I have recently been married, which has given me a new appreciation for the state. I love my husband, as you must have loved yours before his passing. This strong sense of feeling I have developed has made me newly aware of how important that bond is between a husband and a wife. So I must apologize for tempting your husband, though I assure you, it was done before my knowing you, and even before Mr. Wickham's ever having met you."

Elizabeth found no reply ready for this utterly bewildering confession. But needing no external encouragement, Georgiana continued, rapidly sharing the history of her friendship, secret courtship, and attempted elopement with George Wickham. 

"I am sorry also, because this late confession can give you no comfort when your beloved husband is deceased. But I found myself thinking that I would not like to learn something like this about my Mr. Berklee; nor especially if I learned that any friend of mine had conspired against my future happiness and then kept it secret from me for so long."

Elizabeth had to force her voice to be calm. "I would not like it for you either, but not for the reason that you are saying. Before today, I did not know this history of you and George. But please be clear, if he had wanted you to elope with him, that was his wrong doing for tempting you when you were just a girl.” 

"No. It was my fault. I was too forward with my affections with a man to whom I was not related," Georgiana said, tears forming.

"You were fifteen. He was a man grown. George was many fine things, or you would not have loved him; but that does not make this your fault. Please believe me, I hold no blame for you."

"But he was your husband," she began to sob.

Hardly wanting the knowledge, but fearing she must ask, Elizabeth finally spoke again. "Have you told Mr. Berklee about this?"

"No." Georgiana shook her head, closing her eyes tight. "I think I never could."

Elizabeth could hardly console her now. Georgiana cried freely into a cushion—she was not one to be soothed by hugs or other sisterly affection, so Elizabeth could only sit near and whisper soft words until she was composed again. 

"You have been very brave today, Georgiana," Elizabeth assured her. "Perhaps you could ask for your brother's help if you think that Mr. Berklee should know about this event. Your brother could offer you advice, or even begin the first conversation with your husband. This is a difficult thing, so you must go to him and let him be an aid to you." 

Georgiana nodded and promised that she would. But then tears returned as she found her fear again. "I am afraid he will not love me." She meant Mr. Berklee.

It was painfully hard for Georgina to come and confess what had happened to Elizabeth—but far surpassing that was the difficulty of speaking to her much older and much beloved husband. What other advice could Elizabeth give, or words of comfort could she offer? 

“I am not at all upset,” she assured Georgiana. Elizabeth was, afterall, a passable liar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not a long chapter, so I will be back with the next tomorrow.


	30. Chapter 30

The turmoil with Mr. Roan and Georgiana disturbed Elizabeth more than she could have admitted. Whether Georgiana ever spoke with her husband or not, Elizabeth did not ask. Even the thought of it left her exhausted. Elizabeth’s spirit was wounded and she responded by enclosing herself in the protective sphere of her home life, to the exclusion of all else.

Since each day of the London season progressed much like the last, Elizabeth allowed herself to fall into a pattern of living without looking ahead, without hoping or fearing, focused entirely on her immediate circumstances. She watched the progress of her daughter, niece, and nephew with a soft glow of pride. She rededicated herself to the uncomplicated task of working for Jane's comforts. She still met with friends occasionally, though not with much attentiveness; and for weeks turned down all extra invitations to spend time with Mrs. May, Mrs. Berklee, and Miss Zwick. And if anyone noticed, they were too polite to comment or she was too preoccupied to take their meaning. 

So it was with some confusion that Elizabeth responded to Mr. Darcy’s continued invitations to visit Col. Miller and Lord Von Hennin’s salon. 

“Oh yes,” she said finally recalling what he was speaking of, during a small family dinner one night. “Do you plan to attend this week?”

“I do,” Mr. Darcy repeated, “the Colonel has reiterated his invitation to me several times and I would be happy to escort you there, if you are interested.”

Elizabeth looked blankly at where her sister was sitting nearby. “I don’t think that Jane will be available.”

“You may bring a lady’s maid in the carriage with you. That is how Miss Zwick and I travelled after my sister’s departure this past summer.” He watched to see her reaction. “It would not be improper.”

“Well, I suppose,” said Elizabeth, not able to argue. “Only, I must check that Jane does not want me.”

Jane did not, and gave an enthusiastic blessing to Elizabeth’s going out. “Oh yes! Do go. It would not be improper at all. And afterwards you must tell me about it!”

It was only when it came time to dress for the evening that Elizabeth cleared her mind enough to wonder what sort of clothing one should wear to a salon and who else might be in attendance. She became agitated when she realized what she had done in agreeing. Mr. Darcy had been kind to invite her, and now she must try by her behavior tonight to reassure him.

The salon began late, even for town hours. In the carriage, Mr. Darcy was quietly attentive. He only said that he hoped that she would enjoy the evening and that if she wanted to leave at any time she must let him know. 

Their destination, Elizabeth was surprised to find, was not a private town home but a small assembly room at the back of a public theater. Entry was accomplished up a long flight of stairs and, as soon as the way was opened at Darcy’s knock, a thick drift of smoke struck out at them from behind the door. In the vapor Elizabeth smelled the ashiness of tobacco, the oakiness of chimney smoke, and even the oily scent of something cooking. She tried to maintain a composed face, even as her eyes strained to make sense in the dark, close room. Mr. Darcy had brought her here? It was loud and crowded. How would they find Col. Miller? Since Darcy did not immediately react and turn them both away, she had to assume that he knew what the place was. 

“Darcy!” a voice called out above the din of conversation. Further inside, the room was lit sparsely by a few clouded lamps, which made Col. Miller difficult to recognize until he was immediately before them. “And Mrs. Wickham, I am honored to see that you have come at last.”

At least he sounded sincere. 

“Please have a seat while I send someone over with drinks. Lord Von Hennin will want an introduction.”

Following instruction, Elizabeth went with Darcy to a nearby sofa. The people in the room, and there were rather a lot of them, were both standing and sitting, eating little fried fish, and drinking ale. The ladies were clothed in every manner, both fine and worn. The maids are going to scold me tomorrow for the state of my gown,” thought Elizabeth imagining what she should smell like when she left the hazy room. 

“Now that I see it, I cannot imagine why Bingley does not enjoy this,” she told Mr. Darcy. A giddy piano player took up an unfamiliar composition nearby. But like everyone else, she only spoke a little louder to overcome the noise.

“He made a poor comment to a woman on his first trip here. Even Bingley can be embarrassed.”

Elizabeth felt a little flutter in her chest. She too did not want to be embarrassed. 

“But this salon was never a good fit for him,” Darcy continued, quickly. “Bingley likes to play cards, but not discuss books. He likes music, but there is no dancing. Here comes Von Hennin. He will take you away I think.”

Mr. Darcy was right. Lord Von Hennin, after Darcy made the introduction, asked for Elizabeth to follow him.

“Go and socialize Darcy,” Von Hennin warned. “Lady Cecilia is just there and will want to speak with you.”

Off Elizabeth went with her host, with only a moment to look back at where Darcy stood. Von Hennin was a thin, fair haired man of Bingley and Darcy’s same age. He spoke with a germanic accent that Elizabeth found both foreign and agreeable. He was quieter than Col. Miller, but seemed utterly confident in this social scene in a way that Elizabeth did not expect from what she had been told of him. He introduced her to no one at first, only led her around the room, pointing out the many guests, and asking a few questions that were almost too pointed to be polite. 

Fortunately, before she was too much overwhelmed, he stopped in a corner where a little group of two gentlemen and a lady sat. Lord Von Henin made introductions, invited the lady to join him, and then left Elizabeth behind with the gentlemen. Both gentlemen were regulars here and to Elizabeth’s relief they proved kind, polite sorts of men. One, Elizabeth was surprised to find, she already knew from her time in Newcastle.

Dr. Whitten was known to Elizabeth though Mrs. Wedgewood and her husband. The doctor was a well traveled man of around forty years, who had served for a time as a ship's medic in the navy. He recognized Elizabeth immediately and happily attended her.

"What a terrible bore I am," he admitted some time later, after telling her enthusiastically about the work he had been doing since they last met. 

"Not at all," Elizabeth said in earnest. She had remembered him as something of a social reformer, and now it seemed he was much more so, actively working with politicians and clergymen to enact prison reform. She insisted, "If I was not always very attentive in Newcastle, I am quite interested in your work now."

"It is appalling to think that a man might remain locked away who could not pay his jailer’s fees, though he has been acquitted of any crime. This is not our only concern; but it is our most pressing one, and one that we think can be put right by the newest magistrate.

The hardship and misery of our lowest class of citizens seems a problem impossible to solve—and yet, I believe that it will be someday. With effort, that is. It is remarkable what changes we men have made to the world already, just by wanting them. Society alters course slowly, but alter it does. Does that not make you feel very powerful?"

"I am not ready to claim that," Elizabeth insisted. "But your work is inspiring. Have you a pamphlet? I would like to send it to my father."

He did not, he admitted. 

"Then may I write out what you have told me?"

Dr. Whitten agreed, so long as she would make him a copy to read first. "This is my problem," he confessed, "I want everything under my control, yet it keeps me progressing so slowly. But still, if it would not be too much trouble—“

"Of course, sir. I will put down the information tomorrow, while it is fresh in my mind. Then you can correct my understanding where it is needed.”

By the time the salon had finished, Elizabeth was tired but at her ease. Several times during the evening Von Hennin or Miller had come around to speak with her or to take her away to be introduced to another group of people. The guests were, as Elizabeth suspected, people of opinions and taste; but not as she feared, people of judgment. She even saw a woman who she recognized from Caroline Bingley’s London dinner party so many years ago during her engagement.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth told Darcy, very sincerely, when they were back in their carriage. She had not seen much of him during the three hours since their arrival. Only a nod, a brief word, and a glance across the room.

“You liked it,” Darcy noted. 

“I did, much to my surprise.”

“Truly?”

“I truly did.”

He shook his head. “But why did you think that you would not? You enjoy interesting things and interesting people.”

“It sounded like a terribly urbane thing, a salon. I sometimes feel conspicuously like a country girl when I am in town,” she excused herself. 

“They are a little old fashioned,” he said, as if to point out that no one at a salon could be too concerned with appearances. 

“That is worse, actually. Then no one could be there merely for show.”

Darcy seemed to accept this. “Well, if you enjoyed it, I would be happy to escort you again. Von Hennin specifically asked me if you would be back.”

“I think I would like that.” She felt less troubled than she had in weeks.


	31. Chapter 31

Elizabeth kept her word to Doctor Whitten and wrote out a description of his prison work the next morning, in the privacy of the nursery while the children napped. In a stollen hour, she made a copy after dinner, and then sent the pages to the doctor the following day. A letter came back soon after asking if she would mind making him another copy, as he had, in a moment of need, given the first away.

"Your writing is very fine," Dr. Whitten praised her at the next week's salon, "and your penmanship quite readable."

She hid a smile at this trifling compliment, but he was too genuine to censure. “I was happy to do it," she told him. “I am eagerly waiting on my father’s response.”

"I don't suppose you would be willing to make me two more copies of the letter? And also," he asked a bit sheepishly, "if you are interested in working with me on it, I would like to expand what you have written so that it can finally be turned into a proper pamphlet." 

"Well—I suppose I would be happy to do it. It seems a very worthwhile thing to spend some time on." She brightened at the thought of laboring for betterment of society.

"Splendid! I will send round some notes just as soon as I am able." 

And so, Elizabeth stole time where she could to write for Dr. Whitten, folding it into her other obligations. 

***

Multiplying Elizabeth's growing ease, along with the weekly salons and and her work with the doctor, was the return to London of Charlotte Collins. 

Charlotte and her family planned to stay only a short two weeks in town again this summer, where they could be conveniently visited by the Lucas aunts, uncles, and grandparents from Hertfordshire. The Collins were not joined by Lady Catherine this year, who stayed in Kent despite the other Fitzwilliams’ traveling. Elizabeth was curious to hear Charlotte's opinion of Mrs. Alice Fitzwilliams, now that they had spent several months in the same county. 

“Alice is almost silly, but is saved from it by being a very meticulous housekeeper." Charlotte had no use for silliness herself, but tolerated it reasonably. She reported getting along very well with the new Mrs. Fitzwilliams and that, surprisingly, Lady Catherine did also. This was a relief to Elizabeth who wanted to like Alice, and even more, wanted for there to be harmony in the Fitzwilliams family.

Charlotte was the only friend who Elizabeth told about her writing project with the doctor, and her friend asked questions to find out if this work was as complete a waste of time as she feared.

“We are in no danger from each other,” Elizabeth finally had to tell Charlotte directly, when she pressed her on the doctor. “Dr. Whitten loves only his work.”

"It was always love with you—is that what holds you back?" asked Charlotte.

"No, my friend. And if anything, I am far more in accord with your views on matrimony now than I was as a maid—happiness in marriage may indeed be entirely a matter of luck. But I should tell you that I think this most when I am least inclined to marry again, so you ought to encourage me differently."

Charlotte was very put out. ”Why do you seek me out for these conversations when you know I cannot approve?” 

“You are an invaluable source of good sense; I should listen more than I do." 

"But you aren't listening now."

She was not. And to further vex her friend, she moved on to telling Charlotte about her plans for Eleanor and Mr. Darcy. 

“To be in society is to know many estimable unmarried men and women, who all deserved better than each other,” Elizabeth admitted. “I wish that I could do more for each of them. But they suite, and since they are the best that I have, I would like to see them happily married, if I can.”

“Miss Zwick should be taught instead to mind her own business,” Charlotte fumed. “You know, she and Mrs. May were reading through your papers and bank ledgers when you left the room earlier. I am positive you would not want that.” 

Elizabeth winced. Mrs. May, Miss Zwick, and Mrs. Berklee had been visiting when Charlotte first arrived, earlier that afternoon. Elizabeth did  _ not _ want her papers read, but she overlooked it to sooth Charlotte. "It was my fault for leaving them out.” 

Charlotte soon had to leave, but she extracted a promise from her friend: "My parents arrive in town tomorrow. Please tell me about the Vauxhall Gardens outing, since I will not be there to see it." Charlotte had been invited to join Elizabeth and the Bingleys on a planned outing with their friends to the pleasure gardens, but was forced to decline because of her family. 

“You shall hear an account of it to the best of my abilities—anything at all of interest—upon my word,” Elizabeth vowed. Charlotte rolled her eyes. 

Elizabeth did not count on the interesting things starting so early the next morning or on them being so closely related to Charlotte’s complaints about Eleanor. Not long after Elizabeth finished breakfast and exercise with the children, she received a note from Mrs. May asking her to call at her earliest convenience. Jane was gone with the carriage, so Elizabeth decided to walk the several blocks to the neighborhood where the Mays lived.

Elizabeth entered Mrs. May’s parlor to find Mrs. Berklee and Miss Zwick visiting already.

“Oh look, it’s Mrs. Wickham,” said Miss Zwick with a harsh squint. “We were not sure you would come.”

“But I have,” Elizabeth said with a curtsy. She noticed that all three ladies were busy trimming hats. ”Will you wear these tonight? They will look lovely in the dark.”

Eleanor scoffed at just a volume where Elizabeth could hear.

“Sorry,” Elizabeth continued, realizing her faux pas. “I of course meant only that the color and shine of the ribbon will catch the evening lights in a becoming way. They look pretty by daylight also…”

“We hope so…” started Mrs. May.

“Do you really intend to join us?” asked Eleanor, interrupting. “You have not been much in company recently. That is, except for your literary salons.”

The question was innocent enough, but the delivery emphasized Elizabeth’s neglect. Eleanor was put out with her, Elizabeth realized with a flash of concern. “You are right, I have not been out much. But I hope to make up for it tonight.”

"I don't want to keep you from your own preparations,” said Mrs. May, beginning again, ”but we must discuss something important with you. Have you been meeting with a Dr. Whitten?”

Elizabeth groaned inside; but she forbear to explain briefly about the doctor’s social work.

“There is a pamphlet that I have been working on with him about prison reform,” she told them, trying to keep her expression flat. There was no point in getting angry with them now for snooping. “I would be happy to share it with you when we are finished.”

Mrs. May did not admit to having read it already. Instead she gave a warning. “You must be very cautious in pursuing work like this. Pamphlet writing is a mean business, and with a topic like that—! Well, it is a very precarious thing for a woman in your station. After all, what if someone were to recognize your work?”

"I promise, I shall try not to embarrass myself or any of you with my writing. But thank you for your concern, Judith."

"A widow's concerns are everyone's," Mrs. May told her, as if it were nothing more than her duty to comment uninvited on Elizabeth’s private affairs. 

Elizabeth thought it best if she excused herself, and went away after hurriedly wishing them all a pleasant day. She walked and reviewed the brief, agitating conversation until she was approaching her doorstep, at which time a young Berklee footman came hurrying towards her from the street. Begging her pardon he turned her attention to where the Berklee carriage was now parked nearby. In it were Georgiana and Eleanor both. They had left Mrs. May’s and now were calling for her to come with them.

“Mrs. Wickham, I would invite you to sit awhile with us at Berklee House,” Georgiana asked, formally. “Miss Zwick and I will be taking tea very soon.”

Elizabeth agreed, but partly out of confusion. Eleanor and Georgiana must have been quick to leave Mrs. May’s to have been able to intercept her on her while she was still walking home. 

“Mrs. Wickham, what is your favorite biscuit?” Georgiana asked, obliged to speak, after they were eventually seated in her parlor. “I will have it brought.”

Elizabeth would be happy with anything, to Georgiana’s distress. And Eleanor seemed only to sit angry and silent, unable to articulate her complaint. Elizabeth let out a slow long breath that vented a pool of tension in her heart behind it. Her friends must be soothed, it seemed. She would start with Eleanor.

Elizabeth resorted to a strategy of stamina and flattery. She began with questions. What would Eleanor wear the Vauxhall tonight? How pretty. Would she dance if there was dancing? What about fireworks? Had either Eleanor or Georgiana ever seen their like before? What an interesting way of meeting with friends, when the assembly rooms had started to feel a little dull this time of year. Where was the yellow kitten? What a beauty she had grown into. Did they know anything about the history of Vauxhall Garden? Elizabeth had read an article on it, and another on the architecture of pagodas. Had they ever seen a pagoda? 

It was no small effort, but Elizabeth had both ladies nodding and smiling at her stories by the end of an hour.

“Say that you will walk with me tonight,” Eleanor asked Elizabeth. “You are so well informed and are so interesting. I quite love to listen to you.”

Elizabeth agreed and left feeling proud of her work, but also very worn. Eleanor was like Kitty, Elizabeth reminded herself, and only wanted to know that she was not forgotten. Elizabeth felt a little guilty for avoiding her friend these past weeks.

It was now above mid day and the late summer air was sticky and warm. The walk back to Ennismore House was further from the Berklee’s than from the May’s. Elizabeth arrived at home overheated and wanting to rest on the couch for a while, and she did so while she looked through the letters and cards that had been left while she was away. At the top of the stack she was surprised to see another note from Mrs. May.

“What can she possibly have to say now?” Elizabeth wondered. It was a strongly worded invitation to meet again this afternoon. She threw it down in annoyance.

_ “I really must speak with you again _ ,” Mrs. May wrote. “ _ Please find time to stop by this afternoon whenever it is convenient, before we dress for Vauxhall. Several things have come to my attention that you must be told. _ ”

Resigned, Elizabeth went to look in on the children, and then set out, one more time, for Mrs. May’s townhouse. Jane had still not returned so she must walk again in the heat of the high sun. 

“Mrs. Wickham!” Mrs. May said, startled by her disheveled appearance. “Let’s get you some lemonade.” 

Elizabeth fell back in a chair, rubbing at a stinging pain in her ankle. She accepted the lemonade which a maid shortly produced, and waited patiently for Mrs. May to begin whatever sequel she had planned to this morning’s remonstrance.

“I must say, you have worked me into quite an agitated state, Eliza. I have been thinking about what you said since this morning. After you’d gone, Mr. May and Mr. Berklee came home and I told them what you had done. Mr. Berklee told us that he met this Dr. Whitten at one of his club events and that the man is hardly a gentleman. And my Mr. May says that the newspaper he publishes in is very liberal. Prison reform, afterall, is a  _ Quaker cause _ !” Then she scolded, "The men were all very surpassed that Mr. Bingley had not discussed your involvement with them."

"Oh, well,” Elizabeth said, “Mr. Bingley would not have said anything as my work was still in progress and  _ not  _ ready to be shared.”

Whether Mrs. May fully recognized her meaning, Elizabeth doubted completely. But in truth, Elizabeth was not certain Bingley knew that she was writing at all. Jane and Bingley were not inquisitive, so saying nothing had been easy. Even Mr. Darcy, who Elizabeth had eagerly introduced to Dr. Whitten, had largely been left ignorant of her working for him, by keeping the conversations vague and unincriminating. That all would have to be remedied now that Berklee and May were aware of the matter.

“You ought to have told us sooner. Dr. Whitten has a Scottish mother. Did you know that? Mr. Berklee thinks that they fought in the war—”

Elizabeth stood. “I should be going. You will want to get ready for tonight.” Out the door she fled again, angry that she had come at all instead of sending her regrets. 

By the time Elizabeth reached home the sting in her ankle had grown into a stabbing pain that hobbled her step. While she was still she felt nothing, but the last block required that she walk awkwardly, holding her ankle as unbendingly as possible. 

Jane walked in some ten minutes after Elizabeth was finally home. She found her lying on the sofa, ankle raised, hair and dress a mess, holding a damp glass of lemonade to her cheek.

“Goodness Lizzy! Whatever has happened to you?”


	32. Chapter 32

There was little time to rest before Jane and Elizabeth must dress for the evening’s entertainment. But the minutes of sitting in the parlor and then again with the children as they ate their dinner did good for Elizabeth’s ankle, and her maid’s orderly work made a world of difference in her appearance. When it was done, she almost felt equal to company again.

“Are you sure you should be going out?” Bingley asked, as he lifted her into the carriage.

“Oh yes,” she was resolved. “There is no escaping. And my ankle does not really hurt anymore. I was simply moving too fast and too carelessly earlier today.”

Seated, Jane smiled at her sister. “You look beautiful,” she whispered.

Elizabeth thanked her. “It is entirely the dress,” she stated. Tonight, Elizabeth wore gown made of a rich green silk, gifted to her by Jane. The dress was originally intended for some other lady; but when it was abandoned, the dressmaker convinced Jane that her sister would be well suited by it. Jane agreed, and Elizabeth could not help but like it very much when she was surprised with the gift.

“But you should not have bought it. It is too much,” Elizabeth told Jane, before turning her attention to the scenery outside. 

Though Bingley had tried to convince Jane that they should travel to the gardens by boat, in the end, the family had taken the easier route of crossing the river Thames by the Westminster Bridge. Elizabeth loved to look out her window from the middle of the expanse and see the city as it could never otherwise be viewed. Soon though, they had crossed and must wait on their friends at the garden’s periphery.

Mr. Arling was the first in place, anticipating them all; and when he spotted Elizabeth, he nodded and came immediately to her side. His greeting was enthusiastic and Elizabeth was equally pleased to see him. It had been almost eleven months since they had last been in company, as he had only just recently come to town this season. 

"Mr. Arling," Elizabeth prompted, "welcome back! Will you tell us about the Canadas? I am very eager to hear about your trip."

Arling shook his head but consented. "I do wish that I had better stories to tell, but I am afraid the entire concern turned out to be very dull. The only thing of note was when our ship was becalmed, adding several tedious days to the journey there. The sailing took too long, but once I arrived, my father's business was done too quickly. I was finished and turned back around practically before I knew it. 

“What can you mean? How long were you able to stay?” 

“Only a week. I promised my mother I would write her, but I traveled back with my first letter, before it could be posted."

"Truly?" Elizabeth asked, a little aghast and greatly disappointed. “You went all those thousand miles and turned back without any real sightseeing? Without having a look at the country?”

"The truth, if you must know, is slightly more...complicated. I would have stayed longer if I could. But you have the right of it. As you say, I saw very little of the country."

She would not otherwise have shamed him, but Arling’s attitude was one of mock guilt. He seemed to want to be teased, so Elizabeth added, "Well, I hope your father at least is pleased with you. I cannot be." 

He smiled and laughed, happy that Elizabeth obliged him. "My father yes. And my mother more so. She did not want me to go in the first place." 

While they spoke, two more carriages arrived, one carrying the Mays and one with the Berklees. Arling considered his story complete, and when he went to greet the newcomers, Elizabeth whispered in her sister's ear, "Do you think he was run out of Montreal?”

"Elizabeth!" Jane hissed.

"What? He wanted us to think it. Why else hint at a story that way? I rather believe he would have been happier if we had known his secret and confronted him on it."

Jane cared not and would not speculate. 

The summer sun was now low in the sky and the colors of the changing light gave a festal feeling to the occasion. The completed party was rather gay and eager to explore the gardens. Eleanor claimed Elizabeth’s arm right away, telling her how much she liked her green dress. She was ready for her clever friend to explain all the sites to her, as was promised. Misters May and Berklee greeted each other and called Bingley and Darcy over to talk. 

"Take care tonight," Mr. Arling warned the ladies who surrounded him. “I watched Mr. Yoxall and his friends arrive while I was waiting."

"Mr. Aring has said that twice now," Miss Zwick complained to Georgiana "but no one will explain to me what he can mean. What is the trouble with Mr. Yoxall?” 

There was a moments pause while Georgiana looked away embarrassed, and everyone else considered their words. Elizabeth could see that Jane was on the edge of speaking, but Mr. Arling moved first.

"Mr. Yoxall is an old bear, and is known for not watching his behavior around young ladies," he elaborated. “Don’t be caught in his sphere.”

Eleanor was hardly satisfied with this answer, but did not press. More important to her was to find the musicians and to know if there would be air balloons in the garden tonight. Her objective was to be carefree and surrounded by friends.

“Come along!” she pulled at Elizabeth and Georgiana, urging everyone down a long path where the caretakers of the garden had begun to light rows of globed lanterns. Eleanor wanted to walk quickly, but right away Elizabeth realized her mistake and had to slow her pace. 

Elizabeth took hardly a dozen quick steps before the sharp pain from the afternoon bit at her ankle again. She dropped Eleanor’s arm to fall back and talk with her sister, who was now occupied by Mrs. May.

“I am very surprised that you did not say anything to me about Mrs. Wickham and her association with that Dr. Whitten—“

“Jane,” Elizabeth interrupted in a low voice. “I am going to sit on the bench there. I will catch up shortly.”

Jane almost certainly heard her, Elizabeth assured herself, despite the lack of acknowledgement. Mrs. May made no answer either, even as she spoke _ of _Elizabeth. But nearby, there was a little carved wooden bench that would serve as a place for Elizabeth to sit and nurse her disloyal ankle.

‘The weather, at least, is perfect,’ she thought as she watched her friends disappear up the garden paths. The lightest summer’s evening breeze was freshening the day’s stale air. Elizabeth wore good walking boots, thinking that they would better support her in her ambulations. Now she undid the lacings, looked at her unremarkable joint, scolded it, and then did everything back up again. 

For a time, she watched as groups of friends, large and small, arrived at the gates all bright, showy, and laughing. Many truly beautiful summer dresses were on display and Elizabeth scrutinized their construction with admiration. Eventually, when the sky had grown full and dark, and it looked as though most of the parties had arrived, the area grew quiet except for the occasional coming or going. 

“Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth called. The gentleman strode past on the path and had not yet seen her sitting in the shadowed light.

“Mrs. Wickham,” he turned, “there you are. I must apologize. We naturally divided into several smaller groups and it took some time before I realized that you were not still with us. Have you hurt yourself?”

She reassured him. “I am not seriously hurt. I am not even in any pain presently. Only a little indisposed by an ankle that will not cooperate. I did rather a lot of walking earlier today and I believe I wore it out.”

“Where is the pain?” he asked.

Elizabeth indicated the rear outside corner of her foot. He looked at it, though there was not much to see with the boot back in place.

“It sounds as though you have irritated the fascia. That would explain why there is only pain when you move.”

Elizabeth tucked her ankle back beneath the bench. “I am surprised sir. I did not take you for a doctor.”

“Only a man who works with horseflesh. That source of pain can strike any animal that migrates far.” 

Elizabeth was amused to be compared to a horse. Mr. Darcy offered to sit with her; and though her first inclination was to send him away, she thought better of remaining alone and did not deny herself the pleasure of conversing a while with him.

“What did you find while you walked?”

“A pagoda and some statuary,” he told her. This was not his first time at Vauxhall and he held no strong affection for the place. But when he saw how interested she was, he endeavored to describe the sights more fully and to help her imagine where they all sat in relation to each other. And when the telling was done, without further preamble, he asked Elizabeth about her involvement with Dr. Whitten and the prison reform cause. She laughed without much humor instead of answering. Then she asked, "has Mrs. May been talking with you?"

She had. "And Mr. May and Mr. Berklee also," Darcy admitted. "I was surprised, because you had never mentioned the cause before. Not in a serious way."

"I have barely spoken of it to anyone—not even to Jane," she said, hoping he was not hurt by the omision. "Mrs. May saw some notes that I had and would make a bigger deal out of my little hobby than it merits."

Darcy nodded. "I’m sorry. I did not understand Dr. Whitten’s importance to you, or I would have paid him better attention at Miller’s."

"I could give you a copy of what I have written," Elizabeth offered, “though it is still very rough.”

“Only if you would like. If you would rather keep the matter private—“

“Oh no,” she interrupted, “I might as well share. ‘Widows, you know, must be cared for by the community! Our concerns are everyone's.’”

Darcy pulled back. "I perfectly understand you ma'am. Forgive my asking about it.”

She shook her head and moved reassuringly. ”You think I am joking, sir, but I am quite serious. I would like your opinion on the subject more than most people’s. Dr. Whitten speaks a great deal of sense, but there is much to be considered, and my ignorance is vast.”

“Very well,” he agreed, though his brow was still furrowed deeply. 

“Tell me, what is the distance to the grand pagoda?” Elizabeth wanted to know. “I wonder if I were to pace myself slowly, if I could make it so far. I would like very much to see it.”

Darcy named it one hundred yards of both straight and winding trail, including a little bridge. He worried that this was too much, but Elizabeth would still try. “I am an active sort of person which leaves me unwilling to sit still and prone to these poor decisions. I know you do not think it is a very good idea, but I promise to be as circumspect as possible. If you will offer me your arm, I believe I can make do.” 

Arm in arm they did make their way very slowly through the park.

“There, now I look only like a woman who is too rich to hurry. A sedate stroll is all I can allow myself without losing face.”

Mr. Darcy snorted at her.

“Oh!” Elizabeth let out as they came around a corner. The pagoda was beautiful! Lit like a theater stage, it was gold and glowing, and the water that surrounded the base reflected the light even further. A few colorful lamps hidden in the trees completed the scene.

“Here is a bench,” Darcy suggested. He steered her towards a place where they could rest, while still admiring the building’s interesting and exotic lines. “I am sorry that you are unable to explore more. There are, no doubt, other places that you would find equally appealing.”

Elizabeth peeled her eyes away from the tower and smiled at Mr. Darcy. “I am resolved to live modestly. I must learn to be content with being happier than I deserve.”

Eventually she added, “thank you for helping me here. I believe it is a little warmer also, being further away from the river.” The night had cooled considerably since the sun had set. Darcy asked to be excused for a moment and returned after several minutes with an overflowing paper envelope. 

“It is popped corn. Have you tried it before?”

She had not. It was not at all how she expected and she was glad for it.

“I see your sister and Bingley across the way there,” Darcy indicated the far side of the pond. “No doubt the rest of the party is somewhere nearby.” 

Elizabeth projected her contentedness on the couple. “They looked to be having a splendid evening,” she told Mr. Darcy. ”You should join them again. I am very well taken care of now. I cannot be bored when I can watch so many people.” 

He declined. “You cannot sit alone at night.”

Elizabeth began to say something, but they were interrupted. 

“Darcy! There you are.” It was a vexed sounding Mr. Berklee who had found them. “I have been around and around. You sister has been in a state since we discovered you missing.”

As inconvenient as Berklee apparently found this, Darcy could never be annoyed by Georgiana. He was too sympathetic to his sister’s concerns to dismiss them as silly nonsense. He excused himself to go to where he saw her walking.

“I will also let Mr. and Mrs. Bingley know where you are resting,” he told Elizabeth as he left. He dipped a bow to her and a second small bow to the approaching Miss Zwick.

Eleanor frowned as she watched him leave. "Where is Mr. Darcy going? And Elizabeth! What has happened? We looked everywhere for you!”

Berklee would not linger to hear the women talk. 

“I hurt my ankle,” Elizabeth told Eleanor. “Mr. Darcy was kind enough to stay with me so I would not be alone.” 

Eleanor sighed and looked put out. "How lucky for you to have so many gentlemen to call on in your need. If your brother-in-law cannot attend you, there are still all his friends at your beck.”

"Oh," said Elizabeth. Miss Zwick was airing grievances again. “I am sorry that it distracted from your evening. I am prepared to be left here on my own. You should go and enjoy the remainder of the night.”

Unfortunately, Mr. Arling chose that moment to come over and make a bit of a fuss over Elizabeth. 

“You are a regular here at the gardens, are you not?” Elizabeth asked him, a little desperate to escape his attention. “Miss Zwick needs a guide. Someone who knows the history and can tell her the story of all these things in greater detail.” She motioned with her hand.

“Miss Zwick knows that I am at her disposal, as I have been all evening.”

Elizabeth looked quickly between the two of them, realizing that of course they had been in each other’s company since the night began. Elizabeth had not meant to imply that Mr. Arling had been boring Eleanor. 

To Elizabeth's twined relief and embarrassed, Eleanor was suddenly in no mood to continue talking with her. She would find Mrs. May, she explained, leaving quickly. 

Arling stayed until his next, new diversion presented itself.

If Elizabeth was at all afraid that her party would pity her and propose an early departure, she need not have been. No one suggested it—the garden was too compelling. But though Eleanor tried to take him away several times, and Georgiana at least once, Darcy committed to sitting near the pagoda with Elizabeth for the rest of the night. Everyone else, in little groups, went back to wander the hidden lanes of Vauxhill again. 

***

"I am very proud of you!" Charlotte told her, when Elizabeth had reported on her activities and who she had seen that evening in the gardens. "Mr. Arling and Mr. Darcy both seem well caught by you. You may now have your choice of them for just a bit of effort."

They were talking over late tea, on one of the last mornings before Charlotte would return home to Kent. Jane was feeling poorly and Charlotte was happy to guide Elizabeth in a way she could not when other people were present. Elizabeth had meant primarily to complain of her poor luck in not being able to fully see the gardens, but Charlotte was much more interested in hearing about her conversations with the gentlemen, and her conflict with Miss Zwick. Charlotte had given up on Dr. Whitten at least.

"Now you are being ridiculous," Elizabeth said, trying to dismiss the subject. "I am sorry to disappoint your hopes, but no one you have set your eyes on strikes me as at all likely to marry." 

Charlotte would not be swayed. "You are wrong. I don't know what you tell yourself Elizabeth, but it is time for plain speaking. It is clear that no one else is advising you as you need." 

"There is nothing wrong with the advice I receive," Elizabeth said, waving her hand. "I may miss having you around Charlotte, but Jane is an excellent confidant."

"For some other friend perhaps, but not for you. You and your sister think too highly of each other to do any good. It is a misplaced kindness to leave the other in such ignorance. I hope that she too has someone less stupid advising her." 

"Charlotte, that is a very uncivil comment!"

"I am uncivil because this is important! You are too clever to act in such a witless manner."

"Then speak if you must." Elizabeth turned away towards her plate of biscuits.

Charlotte glowered. She looked really very serious and earnest. "I have been much closer to poverty than you, Elizabeth. The only reason you do not fear it is that you do not know it well enough. It would take very little for you and your daughter to slip into genteel poverty. Should that happen, Lucy will lead a hard life, with a rough husband, and little help. And your grandchildren will fall even below that.

"Yes, that is very dire indeed."

Charlotte threw up her hands. 

"Quite seriously my friend," Elizabeth said, "I have been married before. If I am still this close impoverishment then marriage can be no guarantee."

"Certainly marriage alone is no guarantee. But from there you can strategize. I have been putting away nearly fifty pounds a year for my girls and I, since I married your cousin. I mean to never be caught unawares should Mr. Collins pass."

Elizabeth was dumbstruck. But Charlotte continued.

"With a little persuasion Mr. Darcy would settle something on you and your daughter. That is all it would take to secure yourself."

Elizabeth shook her head. "I thank you for your council Charlotte, but there will be no offers of marriage. That at least you are wrong about." 

"Mr. Darcy certainly would ask if you gave him the slightest encouragement. And I think he might anyway." When Elizabeth looked skeptical, Charlotte charged on. "And if not him, then choose another!”

"Alright Charlotte!" Elizabeth said, "you have sufficiently put an end to my happy and purposeful ignorance. May we please now discuss something else?" 

"I do not understand you sometimes Lizzy," said Charlotte shaking her head. But she was silent on the subject after that, despite her fierce desire to shake her friend and demand a satisfactory answer as to what Elizabeth hoped to gain through her present course of inaction. 


	33. Chapter 33

The Fitzwilliam family had, for reasons of propriety around the passing of their patriarch, decided to wait until the end of the London season to honor the coming out of the Lady Julia Fitzwilliam, the new Earl’s daughter. 

Like Georgiana’s ball the year before, Lady Julia’s debut was done in an elevated style, in front of a refined crowd, to the sounds of accomplished musicians and cultivated conversation. The chief difference between the events was only in the year and the attitude of the lady of the hour: Lady Julia appeared to be enjoying herself, where Georgiana had not. And after this last, great summer festivity was through, society would scatter as everyone eagerly made for the country once more.

Elizabeth, more than other years, was divided on whether leaving London was a good thing. Though it was hard not to begrudge some of her current obligations as tedious, others were still of great interest and joy to her. But she consoled herself: perchance Sir William Lucas could fill in for her attentive London acquaintances as the thoughtful and supportive friend she wanted this winter…

Tedious obligation or not, Elizabeth Wickham meant to be easy in spirit, and enjoy the last ball of the season. Since arriving at the Fitzwilliam townhouse that evening, she had tried to stay close to her sister; but Jane, having other plans and priorities, was not easy to retain. Early on, when Mr. Arling delayed Elizabeth for a moment, she found that Jane had already slipped her hold and was lost to the crowd. 

She was happy enough to spend a few minutes with him, but Arling soon noticed that Elizabeth looked around the room, rather than at himself. He teased her with a kiss on the hand, saying, “Oh woman fair and beauteous, bless me with but a moment with your attentions—”

A little appalled, it took Elizabeth some seconds to know how to respond. When she did answer, she found herself scolding, "I would, of course, answer more readily to a more reasonable call, sir." 

Mr. Arling, who preferred Elizabeth in a spirit, was happy enough with this reaction. “Is that so? I am testing, for I have recently been hearing that your husband was a singularly amiable and gallant individual. I thought you must be hoping for a certain level of sophisticated conversation from men.”

"My husband charmed many people, not least of all me. But I will remind you Mr. Arling, that there are many ways of being amiable without resorting to flattery."

"You think I am disingenuous?" he questioned her, laughing.

"Only overzealous," she assured him.

"Then you are too modest," he chided. 

Elizabeth, who knew quite certainly that she was not, did not answer. 

"May I show you something?" the man proposed, when it looked again like she might excuse herself. The evening’s entertainments were still getting started and Arling, perhaps, lacked other options that would sufficiently keep him from boredom. Going into his pocket he pulled out a small paper wrapped bundle. "This has come just this morning into my possession. And since you are a woman of the world, interested in all life's varieties, I think you will find it quite interesting."

"As you say, sir."

"My cousin Franklin sent it to me. He is good friends with Colonel Fitzwilliam's older brother, the new Lord Matlock, you know. They travel in very superior circles. He has gone, at this moment, to Ireland with the Prince Regent.”

“How attentive of him to write to you,” Elizabeth acknowledged, looking at the paper which Mr. Arling was unwrapping. 

"You can imagine my surprise when this came enclosed within the missive.” He reached out and put a small bit of fine silk in Elizabeth's hand. "It is a token, torn from Lady Jersey’s chemise by the Prince Regent. Franklin saw it done himself."

Elizabeth looked briefly before pushing the silk back. "Your cousin is very generous with you," she said, making her voice flat to hide her alarm.

Arling grinned, proud of his trophy. “It is not everyday we confirm that the rumors told are true. The Prince is truly living an indulgent lifestyle. Who else could get away with that sort of vulgar behavior? Not even Franklin, I think.”

"This is your eldest cousin you are speaking of?" Elizabeth asked, grasping for a more innocent conversation.

“My mother's nephew, Lord Conyngham.” Mr. Arling told her. He smiled when she recognized the name. "We were very close as children, though he has grown a bit wild these days. As a woman you will empathise, I suppose, with the trials he puts on my sister, his wife.”

Looking around for a reason to quit him, Elizabeth agreed it must be so.

Arling pressed her, trying to keep her talking. "You are not easily impressed, are you Mrs. Wickham?"

"Now how am I to answer that, Mr. Arling? Neither a yes or a no are very respectful to those I spend my time with." 

He surprised her when his amiable expression was crossed with something biting. "You should admit the truth—that your heart is not easily touched, your satisfaction is never achieved. Why else do you dismiss me?”

Elizabeth was not expecting this and had no ready answer. She took a step backward from him. "Sir, you mistake my contentment with what I have, for a rejection of what is around me."

Mr. Arling laughed a little. He dropped his voice, saying quietly, "I am to understand that you have not been refusing me all this time—it is just that you are so very happy living in your sister's household?"

Elizabeth turned her face stubbornly up to meet his gaze. "So very happy," she emphasized. 

She prepared herself, thinking he would be angered by this clearly voiced rejection; but he responded quite civilly, shaking his head and saying, "Clever woman. You never fail to surprise me." Elizabeth let out a tense breath she had been holding. 

“I hope you don’t blame me for trying,” he continued. Then Arling turned towards the doorway and stared a moment. “Look who has come,” he indicated with a nod.

He drew Elizabeth’s attention to where Miss Eleanor Zwick stood, in extraordinary appearance. 

“Oh,” said Elizabeth as she took in the sight. Though Eleanor was always pretty, tonight, she was brilliant. While Elizabeth and Mr. Arling were paused to admire her, Mr. Darcy came up behind them. And it was him who Eleanor must have been searching out; for she smiled when she saw him, and directed her escort, Mr. Berklee, in his direction. 

“It is quite the color of the season, that emerald green,” Arling commented to Elizabeth so no one else could hear. He was referring to the luminous color of Eleanor’s new dress. 

“Judging by the room tonight, I should say that primrose yellow has a better claim,” Elizabeth hurried to respond, not wanting any part of a squabble. Then Eleanor was in front of her and Elizabeth was loudly complimenting her friend’s dress and general healthy appearance. 

The dress, as Arling hoped Elizabeth would acknowledge, was the same deep, rich green color of Elizabeth’s promenade dress. It was as flattering in tone on Eleanor as it had been on Elizabeth at the garden two weeks before, and lost nothing in being repeated. Truly, Eleanor could hardly have done better. And, with all her might put into this evening’s appearance, she must have been disappointed when the conversation so swiftly moved from how well she looked, to the whereabouts of Mrs. Berklee. 

“Where is Georgiana?” Darcy wanted to know.

“Keeping company with her aunt,” Eleanor answered in brief, before trying to steer the conversation to the forthcoming dinner. But it was Mr. Berklee, unexpectedly, who would not let the subject change.

“My wife insists on sitting with her aunt, though she knows that it is not called for,” Mr. Berklee complained to Darcy. “When we arrived she admitted as much, but stayed behind in the parlor anyway. Lady Matlock’s own family may sit with her if they think it proper, but Mrs. Berklee is _ not _ in mourning.“ 

Elizabeth wished that the other guest could not hear them, but Berklee never modulated his voice either louder or softer to fit the situation, and this time the neighbors were too near. He spoke with firm, sure certainty that he was in the right. 

Mr. Arling listened and shook his head as though empathizing; but when a moment’s pause came, he looked at the two ladies present, and, with some evident calculation, asked Eleanor if she would dance with him. Eleanor did not bother to finish answering before she bowed, turned, and began walking away. It was ill mannered of both of them and completely within reason. Elizabeth envied their quick escape from Mr. Berklee's tedium.

It was then that Elizabeth noticed Darcy and his darkened expression. 

"Sir,” she rushed to interrupt Berklee before he began again, “it is a very fine thing that your wife is doing—making sure that her aunt is cared for and her uncle remembered, while still leaving the rest of the host family free to celebrate Lady Julia. She does everyone credit by her thoughtful actions.”

Berklee did not agree, and, not hiding his disdain for the Fitzwiliam family and their behavior, he went on telling Darcy, that “Georgiana should not be taking on the trappings of mourning when she is still newly wedded. It is inappropriate.” He left no polite way to continue the conversation and Elizabeth sent him away as quickly as possible by recommending a game of cards. 

“Do you ever regret their marrying?” Elizabeth asked, giving in to angry candor as Berklee walked away. 

Darcy would have had every right to be offended by Elizabeth and Berklee both, but he seemed only to deflate from his anger. 

“It is selfish of me.” 

Elizabeth did not understand his reply. It was only much later, when she had time to think, that she decided that Darcy had misunderstood her question, and perhaps the entire situation. He thought Elizabeth accused him of clinging too tightly to his sister. He felt guilt for wanting Georgiana back and it blinded him to some of the real dilemmas of Berklee’s behavior.

But since Elizabeth could not now ask him for further details, she suggested the next best thing. “Might we go and find your aunt? I have not yet paid my respects.”

In the same parlor where Lady Catherine de Bourgh sat the year before, they found Georgiana and the dowager Lady Matlock. As a welcome surprise, they also found the Colonel and Mrs. Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth smiled to see them, and to recognize that despite the difficult year, Col. Fitzwilliam looked happy. His pretty wife looked contented also, and as little tired as one could reasonably expect of a woman nearing the end of her pregnancy. 

Elizabeth had hardly spoken with Alice Fitzwilliam before, and they made the first rough overtures of friendship while Darcy and his cousin spoke of a promising race horse in Reading that the former had gotten word of. 

"If the mare is so fine as you hope, Bingley will want her also," Elizabeth interjected in a friendly way. 

Fitzwilliam puffed. “Tell Bingley he’s got enough women in his life.”

Both Darcy and Elizabeth relaxed as they chatted, while other visitors came in and out to greet Lady Matlock. One was a young woman who was very pleased to be introduced to Mr. Darcy. She smiled and bobbed and took her departure only reluctantly.

"You should ask her to dance!” Elizabeth protested to Darcy, quietly. “She was hoping that you would.”

“I would not like to leave you alone.”

“Georgiana and your aunt are here. And the Colonel could take me to my sister if need be.” She smiled at Fitzwilliam who was listening to them speak. For his benefit, and because she felt a need for levity, she gently goaded Darcy, adding, “There is an entire house of people who are quickly becoming convinced that you cannot dance, sir." 

Fitzwilliam gratified her by laughing out loud.

"No,” Darcy said, not cross but stubborn. “I see no reason to change what I am doing. Unless you would like to join me on the floor?"

"What's the matter Darcy? Afraid that if you stand up with Miss Waters, her father will force you both to the altar?" said Fitzwilliam, who was in a rather jesting mood tonight. 

"That's ridiculous." Elizabeth replied. "As I am certain her father would agree, it is unconscionable to force a lady to marry a man who cannot dance."

Darcy responded doggedly. "I am perfectly capable of dancing."

"I tell you, Darcy dances like my war horse," Fitzwilliam told Elizabeth, ignoring his cousin until the taller gentleman elbowed him in the side. 

"Eh man," Fitzwilliam cried, "it was a compliment! Coronation is a majestic animal."

"Mrs. Wickham will you _ please _ do me the honor." Mr. Darcy extended his hand.

Elizabeth looked to Colonel Fitzwilliam. "Should I fear for my toes?" 

Mr. Darcy grumbled. Elizabeth thought it would have been better if he had gone after Miss Waters, but happily relented and made her leave of the present company.

"A minuet—good. My steps, I fear, are out of practice." She needn't have worried. A mere two years off the dance floor could not undo the work of the twenty-four that came before. They joined the end of the line.

“Alice is lovely,” Elizabeth said as they began. “Do you know, does she get along with the Colonel’s mother and sister?” 

Darcy thought so. He danced easily, leading in a way that was sure and calming. “Mrs. De Vries is close to the Colonel and the fondness between them extends readily to his wife. And she is an easy, agreeable girl.”

“What of the new Lady Matlock? How does Alice get on with her? They must spend more time together than anyone else.”

“Mrs. Fitzwilliam gets on with Lady Susan about as well as any sensible woman would with a lady who is nervous by nature and tormented by circumstances.”

Elizabeth had thought the family had largely reconciled, at least for the evening. “She seemed happy enough tonight,” Elizabeth remembered from earlier.

“Lord Matlock has absented himself recently, which gives Lady Susan the pleasure of complaining about him, without the distress of his presence. It improves her mood but not her disposition.”

Darcy came around a turn and added, “My aunt wants some head of the family to take Lady Susan in for dinner. That will be me, tonight.”

“That is a fitting and kind gesture. But what is catching your attention?" Elizabeth asked, when Darcy had been quiet a while. She tried to follow his gaze, but was complicated by their movement through the room. 

"It is nothing. Only my cousin's partner," remarked Darcy. Lady Julia and a young man Elizabeth did not recognize, were paired together far away on the other side of the long room. "I do not like the way he dances."

Elizabeth stretched awkwardly to see. "What can you mean? To my eye he seems very accomplished. Are his steps wrong?" 

"No. Not wrong. He is too familiar." 

Elizabeth watched and considered.

"Then I hope, my friend, that you never have the misfortune of witnessing a waltz." 

"My complaint lies with the person, not the activity." 

"Ah yes. He is no true gentleman then. I heard once that a true gentleman could dance barefoot and unclothed without causing a maid to blush." 

Darcy scoffed but smiled. "You are an utterly ridiculous creature sometimes." 

"Yes. And I repent of it already," she chastised herself. "In truth, it does you credit that you to take your family's care so seriously. No one would dare an impertinence with you around."

Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth thought, replied with a grunt.

"It must have been difficult for you to watch your sister being courted these past few years. Though Mr. Berklee has very correct behavior, of course."

"It may surprise you, but Georgiana gave me very little trouble during her seasons out. She chose who she would see and cleanly denied those she would not. It was an uncivilized thing all done very civilly. And I trust that my young cousin will do the same. She knows herself and what she is due." 

"You breed good women in your family. Good men also."

They were broken apart by the steps for a short time, but when they were back together Darcy told her that, "It was Anne that scared the devil out of me."

Confused, Elizabeth asked, "You are speaking of Miss de Bourgh? That is, Mrs. Darcy? Your wife?"

He nodded. "It should not have been so—but she was so helpless during her coming out. My aunt did not allow her to be a person among peers. She was like a rag doll with a great amount of money stuffed in its belly. I tried to be watchful that first season, but there was no one who approached who I would trust. My aunt told me to do my duty or to get out of the way—that I was scaring everyone—that Anne would never find a decent husband and that it would be my fault. Anne easily would have married a man with no good intentions, and my aunt was ready to let it happen."

"That is terrible," Elizabeth said, wishing the dance were not moving so fast, so that she could respond better. "I am very sorry for her, and for you. Her mother should not have done that.”

"I would change some things if I could go back again. But I think that she was happy in Derbyshire.” he said eventually. “After the wedding I was prepared to leave her at Rosings Park, but she asked to travel. She wanted to see the Peak District and Pemberley."

Elizabeth nodded. “How fortunate she was to have you as a cousin." Then she surprised herself by letting a burst of empathy towards him come out in words. “You deserve a happy and harmonious domestic life."

Mr. Darcy looked quite unsure of this.

The music came to an end shortly after. Elizabeth made to move off the dance floor, but Mr. Darcy checked their progress. "Remain. Let us dance the next."

"Two dances?" Elizabeth asked. "That is a lot for persons like us who dance only rarely." But she was persuaded and they stayed to dance a very lively reel that made talking quite impossible. When the song had ended a quarter hour later, Elizabeth was flushed and laughing on Mr. Darcy's arm.

"Remain," Mr. Darcy said again. "Let us dance the next."

"What?" Elizabeth said, trying to continue her way to the side hall.

"It is a quieter set. It will not exhaust you."

Elizabeth shook her head not understanding.

“Please dance with me once more,” he asked again.

"If you are mad for dancing, there is Miss Zwick. She looks at you expectedly."

Mr. Darcy persisted. "Why don't we take a turn around the garden then? The Fitzwilliam's have one of the only house gardens in this part of town that is worth seeing. I would like to show it to you."

Suddenly timid, Elizabeth pulled away to look at him at arm’s length. 

"Thank you, but I have toured it already, last year. Besides, it is nearly time for dinner. You are due to find your cousin by the end of the next set.” 

Mr. Darcy said a few words to try and convince her otherwise, as the dance would not be over for some time yet; but confronted with her discomposed earnestness, he did as she asked and left her. 

Elizabeth fled back into the noisy ballroom. There she could stay amongst the crowds and find some excuse for being busy. To her relief it was Col. Miller who found her. 

He looked around, expecting someone to be with her. But when he found no one, he said, “I saw you dancing earlier, Mrs. Wickham. Would it be too taxing to go out again?”

Elizabeth was flushed, but she shook her head, and said, “Not at all. I should very much like to dance with you, sir.” It was pleasantly tiring to be so active in dance after years of abstention.

For the remainder of the song they talked, and turned, and moved, and when the set was done Col. Miller led Elizabeth to dinner. On the way she saw Mr. Darcy and Lady Susan at the far end of the room, trailed by Miss Zwick and Mr. Arling. Closer were Mr. and Mrs. Berklee, who came to the door just as Elizabeth did. Georgiana returned Elizabeth’s nod, but Mr. Berklee looked pointedly away. Elizabeth hesitated, apprehensive, and it was long enough that Col. Miller noticed. “Do not be alarmed,” Miller said gently. And when they were seated, he clarified, “Do not think that was some slight against you. Berklee does not acknowledge me when his young wife is around.”

“Truly?” she was confounded to hear this. Elizabeth looked down the table to where the couple was now seated and Berklee was calling for wine to be poured for his wife. Surely there was some mistake. “Berklee is not warm, I will grant; but he is never rude.”

Miller tilted his head, as if to say, ‘but there it is.’

“Probably it is me he rebukes,” she said wanting to deflect the hit. “He is annoyed with me from earlier tonight and he does not like my work with Dr. Whitten.” 

“You are lucky,” Col. Miller told her. “You are handsome and genteel, as well as intelligent. If you had only the last, he would not like you around his wife either. ”

Elizabeth felt suddenly a great pain at the injustice of it. She wanted to compliment Col. Miller, who was handsome and genteel also, but she could not manage the nerve. “I am very disappointed by Mr. Berklee. He is wrong to cut you. Now tell me, where is Lord Von Hennin tonight? I am sorry to miss him and I want to know if he plans to return to London next season. His salons have been my greatest joy this summer.”

They spoke through dinner, uninterrupted (Elizabeth gave only the necessary courtesies to her other neighbors). And when it was over they went to look for Jane in the ballroom. Elizabeth did not find her before she was interrupted. 

“What a surprise!” Arling remarked after approaching Elizabeth from behind. "I have long suspected you of avoiding ballrooms so that you could escape dancing with me." 

Col. Miller would not have contradicted her if she had said she was already engaged for this dance; but she did not impose on his good will.

"Well tonight you need only ask sir,” Elizabeth told Arling. "I have been dancing these past hours and I cannot say no."

"My goodness! You are harsh on my ego, lady."

"Rather, I know it to be the stout, healthy sort which can weather my jokes."

Arling took her hand and directed her to the end of the line of dancers. “You have put me in my place,” he told her, “but it does not mean we cannot be friends. Darcy is not one for jealousy.” And if their conversation together was not so enjoyable as hers with Col. Miller had been, then at least Elizabeth confirmed what she had before only observed—that Mr. Arling danced very well. 

While she was paired with Mr. Arling, Elizabeth kept an eye around the room and was able to recognize when Mr. Darcy entered with Georgiana—Mr. Berklee must have shamed her out of staying longer with Lady Matlock. Eleanor came chasing after them—positively giddy and flirtatious on the arm of a very tall, young stranger. Elizabeth was close enough to watch Eleanor introduce the young man to a nearly mute Darcy and Georgiana. 

Elizabeth huffed and thought, “she is ruining my hard work."

“Is there some trouble?” Ailing asked, annoyed to be interrupted as he told a story.

Eleanor, at that moment, looked over and glowered at Elizabeth. 

“You see, everyone is acting ridiculous tonight,” Elizabeth told Arling.

***

Elizabeth found the cool of the late night air a relief. She was waiting in the dim lamplight, a little apart from the remaining crowd, for her carriage to come to the front of the queue. Mr. Darcy emerged from the house and stood with friends, some ten feet away, saying nothing. At the last moment before her carriage was ready, he approached and spoke.

"I see that you are avoiding me," he said quietly to her, "so I will not keep you."

Elizabeth interrupted him, "If you saw that I was avoiding you, then I wonder why you are bothering to stop me at all?"

He pursed his lips but continued. "Your brother and I and Mr. Berklee are going out to Reading to look at a horse—“

“—And I wish you all the best of luck with her.”

"We will rest tomorrow and then leave the following morning," he described their plan. “We will be away then for two nights. Might I have your permission to call on you the morning after we return, which will be Wednesday?" 

"Mr. and Mrs. Bingley's home has always been open to you. I am sure they would be happy to see you and would not turn you away," she told him.

"Very well," Darcy said, and he handed her up into the carriage.

Jane and Bingley followed, having heard nothing of the conversation. 

"How do you do, little sister?" Bingley asked Elizabeth once they three were finally all seated and on their way home. "Did you enjoy the party?"

"I am exhausted," she answered. "And you?"

"Exhausted also—even to the point of a headache," Bingley rubbed his eyes. "Let us go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really did mean to get this posted yesterday, but time got away from me. A happy belated Christmas to anyone who celebrates!


	34. Chapter 34

Though he slept very late, Charles Bingley was not at all feeling improved the following morning. All day he rested with tea and pillows under Jane's attentive care. He could not say goodbye when Mr. and Mrs. May came to give their farewells, until they and the Bingleys would meet again later that Autumn. And by evening, he had to admit to the flu and send his regrets to Darcy and Berklee for the following day's journey. 

"Rotten luck," he lamented. "They will buy the horse without me and then send it up to the north country, out of my reach. Or worse—to Devon.”

Between naps the next day, Bingley commented twice more, saying, "I rather liked the sound of this mare, but I think she would have done better in the warmer south.” And later, with a sigh, “What a bother this horse breeding is."

Elizabeth tried to console him. "Perhaps the horse will be a disappointment. We know from experience that stories often change in the telling and rumors make things out to be far superior than they really are."

Bingley, however, could feel no schadenfreude at his friends’ ill luck; and therefore he took no comfort in this thought. 

***

Later, in the middle of that same night Elizabeth awoke to the light of a candle and to the gentle insistence of her sister at her bedside.

"Elizabeth, wake up. We need your help," Jane shook her.

What was the trouble? A letter had just arrived from Georgiana Berklee, Jane told her. 

"Georgiana needs us—she writes to say that Eleanor is gone!"

"Gone?"

"Yes, she's run away of all things."

"That cannot be! Have you the letter?" Elizabeth took the paper from her sister's hand, and rubbing her still blurry eyes, she set to reading it by the weak candlelight.

Jane continued. "I think Georgiana must be in a panic. With Mr. Berklee and Mr. Darcy away, she is asking for Bingley to go out and look for Eleanor."

“Georgiana writes that Eleanor has gone and has left no note?" Elizabeth read, repeated what she could hardly believe. "Jane, shouldn't the constable be called? What if it is something else entirely? Something not of her will?“

"Surely not!" Jane insisted. "It is hardly possible that Eleanor could be forced from the Berklee's house without her consent.”

It was probably true. "But still, I can scarcely credit why else she would leave."

"Nor I. But come. We must get to Georgiana quickly.” 

Elizabeth agreed and minutes later they were dressed warmly against the night air, waiting for the coach. Bingley too was roused out of bed and into his clothes. Despite a large coat and many, many hours of sleep, he looked confused, cold, and terribly weary. 

In front of the Berklee house, Georgiana ran out to meet them. She was teary eyed and dressed in a housecoat. She thanked Jane, and Bingley, and Elizabeth repeatedly as she herded them into the sitting room and shut the door.

"Eleanor's gone!” Georgiana wiped away tears. Prompted to start from the beginning, she told them how she was woken by Miss Zwick’s maid. “Eleanor asked her to call for a cab. She was meant to come right back, Sarah said, but she never did."

"What time was the cab called?"

"Near eleven."

Jane drew a loud breath. ”That was five hours ago!" 

“And the maid doesn’t know where she went?" Elizabeth asked.

“No. I don’t know. Perhaps.” Georgiana shook her head. “I think she means to elope. Jenny told me that she had helped Eleanor exchange several letters earlier this week with Mr. Arling. They must have run off together."

"Arling?" Bingley interrupted. He looked muddily at his wife. ”That is not possible. He is engaged to his cousin in Conyngham.”

All three ladies froze at his words.

"Mr. Arling is engaged?!” Elizabeth repeated, incredulous.

"Yes. Or as good as. He and Miss Lews will announce their engagement next summer. Their families wished for them to wait until she was nineteen."

Jane broke the silence that followed. ”Oh, merciful heavens."

"But if she is not with Mr. Arling, then where could she have gone?" Georgiana asked, in growing panic.

Elizabeth suggested, "Perhaps they have still eloped. Or if she has written to him, he may know where she is. What of the letters? Have you looked for those?"

Georgiana shook her head wildly. "Sarah told me she brought Eleanor the last letter from him just this evening. I was trying to look for it while I waited for you, but there was nothing in her room. She must have taken it with her."

"Or burned it, perhaps." Elizabeth said. They must organize quickly. “Have you sent a letter already to your husband and brother?"

Georgiana had. Even before she had thought to call on the Bingleys she had sent an express.

"That's good," Jane assured Georgiana. "With some luck, they could be here this afternoon."

"There was definitely nothing in Eleanor's room to say where she had gone?" Elizabeth continued.

"No, nothing." 

“Did she pack as if to leave? Did she take clothing?”

"I don't think so."

“We must ask the maid.”

Georgiana called for Sarah and she confirmed that Miss Zwick had taken no bag or anything that might indicate that she meant to stay away. Sarah said that the cabbie had been hailed from a stand across the street, near the park square. She thought that she would recognize the driver if she were to see him again. "But how likely is that?" Elizabeth asked.

"We could send her to the cab stand to wait?" Jane suggested.

"Yes. But it is too little. We must start looking Mr. Arling also."

Bingley had been sitting silently on a couch, listening to the ladies. His head, he could not hide, ached from the effort of being awake. But called on, he began to provide information that was needed—that Mr. Arling rented rooms in a house near the gentlemen's club where they were all members. 

"I'll go and see if they are there," Bingley said hopefully.

"Hold for but a moment while we think," Elizabeth stopped him. She turned back to the ladies. "All will be solved if they are so close, but we should not assume we will be so fortunate. It will likely be only the first stop on their trail. I say this because Bingley cannot go alone, plodding through the city. He can barely hold a tea cup for shivering."

Jane and Georgiana needn't have turned and looked to check. It was certainly true.

"Who else can be recruited? We cannot risk word of this getting out and all our friends have left the city." Georgiana's acquaintance was not so small that this was true; but neither could Elizabeth think of anyone to whom she was eager to have Eleanor's secret revealed. “If only Mr. and Mrs. May had not left yesterday.”

"I can go with Bingley,” Elizabeth offered. "I'll stay in the carriage while he inquires in Mr. Arling's lodgings. At least then there is someone to plan and to give direction to the driver. Bingley might even sleep, when he is not immediately needed."

"I am quite up for any task," Bingley assured them wrongly.

"Elizabeth is right." Jane told her husband. "You will exhaust yourself on your own. Perhaps all four of us should go along?"

Georgiana shook her head to say she could not agree to this. She must stay back. In case Eleanor came home. Or if Sarah found the cabbie. And she could not be gone when Mr. Berklee returned...

"You should stay also," Elizabeth told her sister, "in case there is news.” Elizabeth did not want to leave Jane; but if Georgiana would not go, she should not be left at home alone. The girl seemed very unequal to the strain of making a decision if any new information came to light. Jane agreed.

Elizabeth gave more instructions to her sister. “It is not a very pleasant thing, but I think you must search Eleanor's room again. Do it thoroughly. If pursuing Mr. Arling does not lead us to her, we must be ready to find her another way."

Jane agreed.


	35. Chapter 35

Mrs. Elizabeth Wickham and Mr. Charles Bingley went out immediately, driven in their carriage by a groom old enough to be happily awake so early, and a young errand boy who slept by his side. Their horses flew through the quiet streets to a nearby neighborhood, where they approached Arling’s boarding house, completely dark.

"Arling's rooms are around the back," Bingley warned Elizabeth. He stepped down gracelessly and she did not see him again for a very long time. 

The air was dense and foggy, making it hard to tell if anything was happening. Elizabeth tried to look for lights to come on in the windows of the house—a sign that Bingley had found either Mr. Arling, or Miss Zwick, or the proprietor of the boarding house, or even some servant who worked there and might tell them what they had seen. She saw none. Elizabeth wished futilely that she had a watch with her to tell the time. Eventually a gas lamp came on in a high bedroom on the opposite side of the street. Was some neighbor watching and wondering at the carriage?

By the time Bingley finally returned, the diffuse light outside was at last strong enough to know that dawn was coming behind the fog.

“Did you find anything?” she jumped to help Bingley to his seat.

"We should hurry to the club,” Bingley explained as the carriage started moving. "Arling was not there but I spoke with his groom." The groom, Bingley explained, would tell him almost nothing—only that his master had gone out and that he did not know when to expect him. He kept insisting that Bingley leave his calling card, "As if this were a social call!" Bingley told Elizabeth, incredulous. "I saw no sign at all of Miss Zwick. But the groom, while we spoke, looked very anxious to get away. He may be expecting a note from Arling at the club." Elizabeth looked confused, so Bingley explained that it was commonly done, between gentlemen and their grooms, if they expected to be out for a time, to leave notes in that way.

“Oh good! We may get it before the groom can manage."

After circling the block and driving back to the club, Bingley stiffly climbed down from the carriage again and left Elizabeth to practice her patience once more. She watched the street through the small, tight windows and worried that at any moment the groom would come walking and see her parked prominently in front of the building. She also spared a few thoughts for Eleanor, and tried to imagine the girl’s motivations and where she might be on this dim morning.

"I am not fit for waiting in coaches," Elizabeth told Bingley when he returned, though she should not complain. 

Bingley did not have the resources to sympathize. He could only manage one subject, which was that, "Arling left an address at the desk for his man. It took me some doing to convince the concierge to let me have it, but he did in the end."

"What incredible luck! Where will we find him?" Elizabeth asked. 

“On Great Peter Street. In Westminster, south of St. James Park.”

"Really? That far." Elizabeth was only familiar with Great Peter Street by reputation. It was not a slum, but it had renown. “We had better be going on then. But we should send our news back—Georgiana and Jane will be glad for it." The errand lad was dispatched at a corner with a hastily written note.

"Did you let on about our purpose, when speaking with the concierge?" Elizabeth wanted to know before Bingley dozed off again.

"Not at all. I am familiar with the man and I was quite my normal self when speaking with him." Bingley smiled, which was his usual practice. But otherwise he was far too pale and wan to appear as he normally would. Elizabeth wished without much hope that the concierge would think little enough of Bingley not to mention his inquiry, and that the groom would be unsuspicious enough not to ask. That is, if the groom came at all, and was not already on his way to Westminster to warn Arling about their coming.

The trip to across town took much longer than Elizabeth hoped. The dawning sun and thinning fog made the once empty streets grow tightly crowded with horses, carriages, and people walking. Elizabeth and Bingley went at a crawl from nice neighborhoods to rough, and back and forth again, until they finally arrived. By looks, Elizabeth judged the area around Great Peter to be an artist's neighborhood—a place that might be visited by gentlemen, but where no one was too concerned with the judgements and scruples of the gentle class. The streets were lined with theaters and tenements and everywhere there were children playing.

Their destination was a boarding house—this one squatter and less fine than Arling’s main residence. A large number of residents were sitting at the doorways and beneath the windows. Some were doing work—with wood, wool, and paper. Others were not.

Bingley groaned when Elizabeth shook him awake. He had slept for three quarters of an hour, almost their entire trip. "I’m sorry—," she said. 

He looked colorless. "If Arling is inside I shall demand a hot drink." 

"You should." Elizabeth agreed, hoarsley. "We have been ill used by him today."

Down and out he went again, but slower this time. Elizabeth tried to examine the house through the carriage window, but with the eyes of so many people on the street watching the fine carriage, she felt she must stop. She moved to the other side so that she could look across the street and saw from her vantage a theater, forlorn and ragged in the daylight. It was instinct more than signage that told Elizabeth that this place did not present shows fit for any lady's reputation.

Elizabeth jumped when the carriage door opened suddenly. Bingley dragged himself back up to his seat.

"He's not there."

Elizabeth could have cursed. 

"But it is not all lost. He has been here before. They knew just who I was asking for. I told them that I was meant to meet with Arling and asked if he was expected. They could not tell me; but still, he may return to meet with his groom."

"That is something,” Elizabeth agreed. “But we will need to move the carriage. We are much too prominently parked here." They could not afford any warning that might cause Arling to run or hide.

Bingley agreed, but maintaining a serviceable view of the door was not easy. "Our only other choice is across the street in the alley there. And we will have to hope that no one asks us to move."

"Theaters do not do much business during the day," Elizabeth assured him. The message was passed to the driver and around they went to wait in the alleyway.

"I'll act as lookout, if you would like to rest," Elizabeth offered to Bingley. He gladly agreed and Elizabeth asked the driver to walk out and purchase food and hot drink. 

Elizabeth watched out the window, focusing as best she could on the door. The job was uncomplicated, but she worried that her wandering mind could miss Arling hurrying by. So when the driver returned, she asked if he would recruit one of the boys playing in the streets to keep a watch as well. "Give him a cake now and tell him to come right over with word for a sixpence on top of that." Then she roused Bingley to drink before the tea was cold and the kettle must be returned. 

Goodness, Elizabeth thought, feeling the air around her brother. "You are burning up!"

"Jane normally allows me much more idleness when I am poorly," he told her with a pained smile. He squinted his eyes at the tea. "I would be alright enough if it were not for my head." 

"Well drink up." 

He did, but refused any food. "My appetite is gone," he apologized, before folding back into the corner and falling asleep again.

“Damn,” she whispered, and then repeated it again for emphasis. Elizabeth tried to think while maintaining a vigilant watch out the window. People milled about in the streets. The boy they had hired had not slackened—he sat on the stoop, playing at games and watching the door. Bingley, she could feel, was only getting warmer, and resting less comfortably—he’d begun to alternately throw the blanket off his person and then reach out to pull it tightly when he began shivering. He really must be sent home; but at what cost? There seemed no good options. They could not afford to lose Mr. Arling and his precious information about Miss Zwick. But Elizabeth could not manage a carriage so large, through streets so narrow if she left the driver behind to watch. And if she stayed here and sent Bingley and the driver away, there were no very respectable establishments that she could wait in—no bookstores within sight, no dress shops for browsing. 

And anyway, who then would confront Arling if Bingley were gone? What power of compulsion did she have? 

"More tea, please,” she begged the groom. And in her head she pled with Mr. Arling to come to his senses, and present himself before some worser damage was done. Bingley was young and healthy, but the young and healthy had been permanently disabled by high fevers before.

Crack! came the hard hit of a heavy hand on the side of the carriage that startled Elizabeth into a hunched stand from her seat. Elizabeth heard the groom above exclaim in tones close to a yell; but Bingley was not woken, and did not stir even as the door was pulled open wide and the silhouette of a dark man filled the portal.

"Mr Darcy?" Elizabeth was surprised to see him.

He looked about the carriage, then focused his eyes on Elizabeth.

"Thank goodness you have come!" she finally exclaimed. "We did not hope for you for several hours yet. Bingley and I have been tracking Mr. Arling in search of Miss Zwick. We expect to find him come to meet his groom here."

"What is wrong with him?" Darcy said the last, while gesturing at Bingley asleep in the corner."

"It is a fever. He has gotten worse since this morning."

"Well take him home,” Darcy snapped. “Just because you have written of the slums does not mean that you are free to run around in them.”

Elizabeth huffed. She wanted to answer back that this unextraordinary street hardly qualified as a slum, but Darcy was too much in earnest and Bingley was too much ill for her to argue. "We will go,” she assured him. “But come out of sight. You must not let Arling spot you and slip away.”

”Arling is here already. Berklee followed him inside as we arrived.”

"Oh." 

Mr. Darcy did not come in. Instead, he shut the door on her and gave instructions to the driver. And with that, the horses were off. As the carriage pulled away, Elizabeth looked back towards the boarding house and caught sight of the theater’s opposite wall for the first time. Its message and decorative elements were indiscreet beyond what she expected. She turned red, though there was no one to see, and felt herself grow embarrassed to have been found waiting in front of such a lewd establishment, though, of course, she was not the reason why they were there.

As they drew closer to home, she began to clarify her thoughts. What would she have done if Darcy and Berklee had not come when they had? They must have traveled at incredible speed to arrive here before noon. Darcy was cross at her for following Arling, but she hoped it was only because he was tired. He could not honestly have expected her to let Bingley go out on his own. Or for them to dawdle at home rather than beginning the search for Eleanor. 

No. Even if Berklee would not like it (and she knew he certainly would not), she believed Darcy to be much more understanding of her intentions and tolerant of her need for action. ‘Besides,’ she told herself angrily, ‘I am a much colder and more worldly person than any of the ladies and, indeed, most of the men in our acquaintance. Who else should have done the job?’


	36. Chapter 36

Elizabeth did not have the luxury of mulling over her choices for long, there being still too many duties to perform outside the search for Miss Zwick. While they rode, Elizabeth made the decision that Bingley must go directly to his own bed rather than stopping at the Berklee residence. With that determined, she had the driver wait in readiness in front of Ennismore while she took Bingley inside and gave instructions for his care to several trusted servants. 

And having seen her brother-in-law fall deeply asleep, she left again to the Berklee’s house to exchange places with Jane. Bingley might need his wife’s care, but neither could Georgiana be left alone for long.

Jane and Georgiana had seen Darcy and Berklee an hour earlier for only a brief alarming minute as the gentlemen burst into the residence, demanded to hear the story, and then left again. Now, the ladies cried out for information. Even as Jane prepared to leave, she questioned her sister rapidly about what Bingley had seen and done. Elizabeth recounted what she could, but it was slight and brief. 

"Take care of Bingley," Elizabeth said, kissing her sister's cheek. "I will write you tonight; or sooner if we hear anything."

"I will do the same," Jane promised. 

Then she was gone... 

—and the house, quiet.

Elizabeth found sitting with Georgiana to be as frustrating as waiting for Arling had been. Jane and Georgiana were unsuccessful in their earlier search of Eleanor's room, and though Elizabeth looked a third time, there was no sign of a letter or anything else that hinted at the day's troubles. Georgiana had responded to this blow by pulling out her own box of letters from Eleanor. For the remainder of the afternoon Elizabeth watched Georgiana go through the messages one by one, over and over, reading each silently first, and then again aloud if anything were significant to her. Elizabeth found it difficult to know what to say—all the passages seemed so unenlightening, so unconnected to anything that was happening presently. Eleanor mentioned love, marriage, and the future only abstractly; and Mr. Arling never. 

Finally, when Georgiana returned to the first letter again, Elizabeth begged for a pen and paper. She felt as though she must write her own thoughts or go mad. She sat scribbling and sketching, looking up only when Georgiana would periodically call for her attention. Around dusk an express came; Georgiana all but leaped upon it and after she read it in silence, she kept it clenched tight in her hands.

"Will you tell me what it says?" Elizabeth finally begged, when it seemed she would never be offered the paper.

The letter was from Mr. Darcy. In brief, it said that he and Mr. Berklee were continuing to search for Miss Zwick and would consequently be leaving the city with Mr. Arling. He could not say when they would return.

"I will write to Jane and Bingley to let them know." 

Georgiana barely listened for pacing the room.

After the letter was written and sent there was little to do except prepare for bed and convince Georgiana to do the same. Elizabeth had sent for a trunk to be packed, and planned to sleep overnight at the Berklee house. 

Elizabeth longed for a few minutes with Jane as she debated what her evening and morning hours would look like. Until now, no thoughts had been given to even the most immediate future that did not pertain to the search. And Georgiana made no offers about what they should do, if they should eat, or where Elizabeth should sleep. Should she ask to sleep in Georgiana's room? Georgiana was not a warm person, but Elizabeth hesitated to leave her alone for so long as a night. 

A rich girl with no sisters might be entirely unused to sharing a room. But, Elizabeth reminded herself, Georgiana had been to a boarding school and would have had friends and roommates there. "May I see that you are settled properly in bed? Elizabeth asked. Georgiana accepted her without word and seemed suddenly to turn rather into a doll, waiting to have her clothes changed and be tucked under the blankets by her maid and by Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth looked around the fair room before putting out her lamp. There was lace stretched across the chairs and dressers. In the dark, she circled the bed and crawled under the blankets on the far side of her friend. 

Georgiana made no noises and moved not at all until at last she was sound asleep. Then she began to fidget and to grind her teeth terribly. 

Elizabeth pulled a pillow over her head and let herself retreat back to her thoughts. She was afraid for Eleanor and a little ashamed of her lazy attitude recently to the girl's troubles. The truth was she had seen things recently—but understood none of them. Her powers of empathy had failed her. Elizabeth hoped for news in the morning, but was afraid of what foolish choices Eleanor might have made or might be still making that she had not returned yet to her friends. 

***

As soon as Georgiana was awake, fed, and made comfortable in the parlor, Elizabeth contrived a late morning walk. Georgiana was maddeningly unable to concentrate, or do anything now except ruminate, cry, or read letters. Even the yellow cat ran and hid. Elizabeth might have invited her to take some air, but selfishly decided against it. Anyway, Elizabeth hoped the few minutes of peace would inspire in her some brilliant idea, if not for finding Eleanor, then at least for keeping Georgiana occupied. 

But before she had gone two blocks, Elizabeth realized her error—if she wanted to walk, she should have gone out earlier, when the streets were populated only with the working class and not the gentility. Though the season was officially over and most people of her acquaintance were gone, enough remained to impede her, and worse, to ask probing questions. One, a Mrs. Vert, had seen Elizabeth an entire block away when she waived her down to stop and talk.

"Are you on your way to Mrs. Berklee's? I have just come from their myself and have been told that the mistress is unwell and not taking callers."

Elizabeth was tired and felt the death of all her cleverness. She had no answer ready that seemed more suitable than, "Mrs. Berklee is unwell. I was there myself yesterday looking in on her while her husband was away."

Mrs. Vert cocked her head. "Yesterday? Why I tried to call on you and your sister yesterday. No one answered."

"I'm afraid our home has been closed up also. Mr. Bingley has a bad fever. It will delay us from leaving town.”

Mrs. Vert tilted her head back. "What a shame. That is a bad way to end the season."

Elizabeth agreed and wished Mrs. Vert a good day. She worried at her coatsleeves as she forced herself to walk slowly. To make it back to the Berklee house, she made a long, furtive circle around the block and then hurried only when she reached the rear alley door.

"I saw Mrs. Vert on North Row,” Elizabeth told Georgiana. She changed out of her boots and into a pair of slippers. "Did she call here earlier?"

Georgiana reported that there had been several calls already today. “There is a pile of cards there,” she pointed.

"That many?” It was a stack. “Well, I told Mrs. Vert that I had been here yesterday to take care of you, so I must not make a liar of myself today. Can I read to you, while we sit?"

Georgiana agreed without any hint of interest. And as she would not allow that any particular book appealed to her, Elizabeth chose to suite herself with one as inanely simple as their minds were rattled.

***

Elizabeth was writing again to her sister that afternoon when she heard a terrible cry from Georgiana. The young woman had, in her iron grip, a shredding copy of the evening news. 

"Oh! How did they know!" Georgiana cried. "How could anyone have known?"

Elizabeth begged Georgiana to calm herself and when she got her in a chair she took the paper. In horrible, plain print she found the article that had startled Georgiana. It was, without a doubt, about Miss Zwick.

_ It is with greatest concern that this newspaper announce that the beautiful Miss E. Z., who had been living this season in the house of the illustrious Mr. B. and his own young wife, has left her friends and fled to where this writer does not know. Inquiries are currently being made into the lady's whereabouts, but we fear only the most shocking of circumstances could drive the lady from her happy situation. Mrs. G. B., in great distress over the loathsome betrayal of her friend, has taken to her sick bed. _

"Stupid Eleanor," Elizabeth muttered aloud, feeling a rush of pain for both Miss Zwick and for her family. It was a very bad thing that this news had become public. The chances of a respectable end were now much more difficult to achieve.

"How could they print this?" Georgiana asked, miserable groaning overtaking her again. "I never said that she had betrayed me. What kind of friend would even think that, when Eleanor is in such a terrible, defenceless state?"

"Eleanor will know that you could never mean her harm,” Elizabeth assured Georgiana. “But perhaps we should have expected something. People are so quick to gossip in an uncouth situation like this."

Elizabeth immediately regretted saying what she did. It was bitter truth and Georgiana looked crushed by it. They sat in pained silence, neither speaking, for some time.

Elizabeth watched Georgiana's face: the girl did not look back at her, but she showed a range of changing and strongly felt emotions. They passed across her face like clouds in front of the sun, each blotting the light in turn. “Perhaps you would feel better if you spent some time at the piano,” Elizabeth suggested, a little afraid of Georgiana's delicate state. But Georgiana would not go. Finally Elizabeth went back to her letter she was writing.

"Mrs. Wickham!" Georgiana interrupted her a few minutes later.

Elizabeth turned to look and was alarmed at Georgiana's pale skin and tight expression.

"I'd like for you to leave this house."

Elizabeth froze.

"Please go," Georgiana requested again.

"Surely you do not want to be here by yourself,” Elizabeth reasoned, head spinning.

Georgiana looked angry; her eyes were wild and white. "No. I  _ do _ want to be alone. When Eleanor returns I will have her here with me. It was all a mistake. I should never have invited anyone except Eleanor into my home while Mr. Berklee was away. I should not have abandoned her trust to heartless outsiders and false friends."

Elizabeth felt her stomach drop and a shuddering of horror run through her body complete. What should she say? What options could she have when being forced out by the mistress of the house? 

"Yes, of course," Elizabeth answered in a low voice. "I will go and get my trunk."

Georgiana was accusing her of betraying Eleanor! She thought that Elizabeth was the one who shared the story—to the newspaper, to Mrs. Vert, to someone! Elizabeth heard Georgiana call for the carriage to be readied. Was there time to send for Jane before she was shown out? No. She could not risk angering Georgiana further by delaying. 

Elizabeth went home like a dog with her tail between her legs where she confessed her shame to Jane. 

"What wretched, awful news! It is no wonder that Georgiana has been confused by it. I will try calling on her in the morning when she has had time to rest and think. But please Lizzie, when we are together again you must be gentle with her—Georgiana will regret her accusations when all is done."

Elizabeth made a futile gesture. It was not hurt that she felt at Georgiana's words; it was fear. If Georgiana believed that Elizabeth were petty, or jealous, or callous enough to let harm come to Miss Zwick, then there was no guarantee that she would correct her conclusion later. Georgiana must have noticed the tension between Eleanor and Elizabeth. 

Heavens! And what would Eleanor think?!


	37. Chapter 37

Jane posted a note to Georgiana before breakfast the next day; at eleven she took a carriage to call at Berklee house; by half past the hour she returned home.

"Georgiana would not see me. But do not fret. I will try again tonight," Jane promised, after patting Elizabeth on the hand. 

Charles Bingley was still in bed, but for the first time in a week he felt his health improving. His fever had dropped, though his energy and body were still slack. "Perhaps in another day or two I can ride to Darcy and Berklee? It may be that they still want help then."

It was possible, Elizabeth thought, that he would be wanted; but under no circumstances would she support him traveling so soon when he had been so very ill. The carriage ride two days earlier had shaken her. Jane only said that they should wait and see. For now it was incumbent on Mr. Darcy and Mr. Berklee to work everything out with Arling and Miss Zwick, all without the balm of Bingley's soothing temperament. 

To both Jane and Elizabeth’s surprise, a note was delivered that afternoon from Mrs. May. Though she should have been at her home estate in Sussex, the lady was waiting downstairs, having been told the same as every other caller at Ennismore that day—that there was a sickness in the house and that the sisters were not accepting company. 

But Mrs. May was more tenacious than most; and, by virtue of her close friendship with Jane and Elizabeth, felt more entitled to persevere beyond the initial rejection. 

"She begs to be allowed up." Jane handed Elizabeth the note. "I don't see how we can deny her, nor why we should want to. She is after all, Miss Zwick's friend as much as anyone is." 

"Of course we can deny her! And we must, if the opposite means compromising ourselves."

"The story is already told. And we would at least correct the least flattering parts of it."

Elizabeth did not agree, but they called for her anyway.

As soon as Mrs. May was announced she tumbled forth into the room carrying a newspaper. "There is a very terrible rumor circulating about Eleanor, and worse,” she cried, “I think that it may be true!"

Jane sighed aloud, her shoulders dropping. "My dear friend, when did you return?” 

"Just an hour ago! I tried to visit the Berklee house straight away, but Georgiana has it shut tight. No guests are being accepted at all. Which, if what is being said is true, I understand, of course; however, I wish that Georgie had thought better of it. I must know what has happened to Eleanor! I have known her since she was just born and attended her christening. We are almost family!

"Worser," Mrs. May continued, "I have had a message from Mrs. Wedgewood. She complains that she has received no word from her sister since Vauxhall. No letters at all in twelve days, when Eleanor normally writes so regularly! Leah will see the newspaper by tomorrow and I know nothing that will satisfy a caring sister or parent at a time like this. I must write her, but I cannot respond with only rumors! That is why I came here."

"I'm afraid we have no intelligence to offer that is more recent than Tuesday," Jane began to explain with care. It was a gentle rendition, with an ending so subdued, that Mrs. May must have thought that Elizabeth left Georgiana of her own choice.

"Jane will try again with Georgiana tonight," Elizabeth insisted, when her sister had finished their story. Mrs. May did not like this, feeling that she should go also. But on this Elizabeth was firm and Mrs. May able to see the sense of a single visitor only. 

"Do you think I should send Mr. May after them?” she wondered when they next discussed the men.

Elizabeth and Jane both hesitated. “Let us think on it before we do something rash,” said Elizabeth. “Afterall, we do not even know where they presently are."

Mrs. May decided that she would leave and return that evening. She wanted to discuss what she had learned with Mr. May and would come back later with all his suggestions. 

***

Jane did as she promised and that evening she went again to call on Georgiana. Mrs. May had already returned to Ennismore hours earlier to wait with Elizabeth. Judith's husband had not so many ideas for helping as his wife had hoped and he could not long hold her attention. 

Jane was gone some three quarters of an hour. Was that long enough to see Georgiana?

"No. She still would not see me. But—” Jane had witnessed something. Or, at least, she thought she might have. She could not be sure... "I think that Eleanor was there."

Elizabeth and Mrs. May both sprang from their chairs.

"What evidence do you have?" Elizabeth needed to know.

"I asked to write a note," Jane told them, gesturing toward Mrs. May to acknowledge that she had borrowed the technique, “and while I sat at that little table, I could hear people moving on the other side of the door. One voice, I thought, was Eleanor's."

Mrs. May grabbed Jane by the shoulder. "That is good. Very good!"

"But how certain can we be that it is true?"

"Let's eat dinner," Jane suggested.

"And think about what we can write to Mrs. Wedgewood," Elizabeth added.

***

A letter came from Berklee house late that night (though not so late that Mrs. May had yet gone back to her home) that was written in Georgiana’s hand. The note confirmed what Jane had suspected—Eleanor was home. She was also, it said, soon to be married. 

The tone of the writing sounded angry or even spiteful. It read to Elizabeth as if Georgiana doubted their happiness at the news and suspected them all of hoping for Eleanor's further humiliation. Or was Elizabeth reading too much into the few, brief lines?

"Let us not neglect Mrs. Wedgewood any longer. Miss Zwick might have written to her sister already, but I still think that we should share anything that we have been privy to," Elizabeth suggested. 

Mrs. May agreed and took the lead role in drafting the delayed account of the previous week which they hoped would begin to inform and calm Miss Zwick's too distant relatives.

"Could I add something in my own hand?" Elizabeth asked her friend when they had finished. Mrs. May was too polite to decline and stood to allow Elizabeth to sit. "Give me but a moment and we can send this straight off." 

_ My Dearest Leah, _

_ Though it is no pain compared to your own, I have worried along with you these past days, since we became aware of your sister’s troubles. I dearly want to offer you more meaningful support than I am able at such a long distance—but I must content myself with whatever benefit and comfort there is to be had in Mrs. May’s thorough account. _

_ However, before I let this letter go, I feel I must share one last thing with you. I do not have the time to fully explain, but there has been a misunderstanding between myself and Mrs. Georgiana Berklee. She is a loyal friend to Eleanor and has been carefully guarding her reputation this week. In brief, she is concerned that out of a jealousy for the gentleman involved, that I have let some information slip to the gossips about what has occurred. Please know that this is not true. I would not trouble you with this, except that I fear you will feel betrayed if news of it comes to you, and that at once I will lose three of my most dearly held friendships. _

_ Though we all wish we had protected her better, I would not hurt you or Eleanor in this way for all the world. _

_ Your devoted ally, Elizabeth Wickham _

There was no comfort to be had in such a note for Elizabeth. It was mortifying even to have to write it. And worse, Elizabeth doubted that it could serve any positive purpose in a time when so much else was happening to alarm and to strain. But it was true what she said—she would not have Mrs. Wedgewood feel the hurt of betrayal if it could possibly be helped. So after looking her words over once more, Elizabeth folded and sealed the letter to be sent at first light.

***

Morning dawned on another long and confused wait. 

Elizabeth had thought that the late night message from Georgiana meant that there would also be imminent news of Misters Arling, Berklee, and Darcy. 

Mrs. May had thought that Eleanor would now welcome her company as a long and beloved intimate. 

Jane had thought that Georgiana would need their assistance again, planning ahead of the wedding. 

All three ladies were mistaken.

"I think that they have left the city!" Mrs. May told Elizabeth and Jane when she came to call the following day. Judith was seething. "What can they possibly be about? If I were Eleanor's sister, I would be spitting rocks at that irresponsible girl!"

Elizabeth greeted Mrs. May as calmly as she could, wishing that the woman's tension had not so immediately been reflected in herself. Jane though, reminded them both that, "We must assume that Eleanor has told Mrs. Wedgewood all about her plans, though she has not told us. Another day and your last letter to Mrs. Wedgewood should be returned. No doubt you will find that they are all reconnected."

"But it is very irregular. I sent Mr. May to call this morning on Mr. Berklee and Mr. Darcy and they were not there—they are not at home! May had a notion that they had gone back to Reading for that horse of theirs. As if either of those gentlemen would act so ridiculously!”

Elizabeth agreed in silence that Mrs. May was correct: Mr. May was ridiculous and no doubt would have gone back for a horse; but Berklee was too principled to let a woman of his household travel unaccompanied without reason; and Mr. Darcy would want to see his sister—he would be very aware of how upsetting this week had been to her.

Jane reasoned that, "There must be some reason why they could not come back when Eleanor did. Some other business that must be taken care of."

"That would explain Darcy and Berklee. But I think Eleanor and Georgiana have gone also!"

"Why do you say that?"

"I tried to call there again before I came today,” Mrs. May confessed. "The doorman still would not let me in."

Though she had been turned away several times now, each repeated dismissal seemed to wound Mrs. May afresh. She looked as though she might cry. Jane moved in to console her. "It is certainly unsatisfying, but perhaps it is time for all of us to turn back to our own lives. Judith, you must be wanting to prepare for your guests in Sussex.”

Mrs. May did not want to prepare for her guests. She _ wanted _ the satisfaction of Eleanor's confidence. "What of the wedding? What if I am wanted for it? Or worse, what if there is no wedding after all? Oh, I should never have left in the first place!” 

***

Mrs. Wedgewood’s reply did not come the next day, but an entire, agonizing day after. All the while Mrs. May was burdened by rumors of duals and betrayal that prevented her from making much progress towards leaving London again. “Let us send our husbands in search of them all! Mr. May at least can be counted on to communicate,” she threatened. When the letter finally came, Mrs. May brought it for Jane and Elizabeth to see. Inside, Mrs. Wedgewood wrote that she had, at last, heard from her sister, though in a form too brief to satisfy. As before, she would appreciate any additional intelligence that they could provide. If she knew anything else, she did not own it. To Elizabeth, she had nothing particular to say. 

They wrote back immediately, but could only promise that they would write again as soon as they had any news. "What agony for my friend!" Mrs. May declared, shaking her head.

A week entire had now passed since Eleanor's disappearance, though Elizabeth could not reconcile whether that felt too long or too short to count the days. The Bingleys did not take their own advice—they lingered in London when they should be thinking about leaving for Netherfield. It was an uneasy mix of leading their normal lives, while waiting for some news or change. 

This was the state of things when Elizabeth planned to take the children out to the park one afternoon. She was interrupted in her preparations when a letter arrived for Bingley.

"It is Berklee," he announced, reading it in the sitting room where he was spending much of his recovering time now. "He has asked me to go to his house. I can do that! I am well enough surely to go around the block." Bingley looked at Jane and Elizabeth so that they could confirm for him his last statement. His sickness was waning, but he had not seriously considered leaving the house yet.

He continued to read the letter before stopping short. "Oh, gracious me!"

"Charles, what is it?"

"It's not Arling!" he cried. "Berklee writes that Miss Zwick is lately married—but not to Arling—to his brother!"

Elizabeth could not understand. "Mr. Arling has an unmarried brother?”

“To Berklee's brother! Miss Zwick has married Mr. Edmund Berklee! They were wed two days ago at his family estate with Georgiana and Darcy witnessing."

Bingley forced himself into action. "I must go. Call for a horse to be saddled. Not a carriage. I should like some fresh air."

***

Bingley did not return until the next morning. And though he was exhausted to the point of senselessness, he mumbled throughout the breakfast that Jane brought for him. "I am confounded by the entire thing," Bingley said, unable to stop from yawning. "I was wanted during the night only to keep an eye on Arling until everything was signed and settled. When it was, he left the city straight away and I was free to go."

“Arling again?” asked Elizabeth, askance. “But what had he to do with anything if Eleanor is married to Edmund Berklee?"

"Everything! But—“ Bingley shook his head, his eyes sad. He warned Jane and Elizabeth both, "it is not a good story. It seems that Miss Zwick went to Arling last week needing assistance. She is expecting a child."

"But how can—?” Jane thinking through what she already knew.

"Miss Zwick told Arling but was rebuffed that night after the ball. When he turned her away, she resolved next to go to his family to persuade them to help her, but lost her nerve. Darcy, Berklee, and Arling found her alone at an inn in Gloucester. From there, however, Arling would not cooperate. He would admit nothing. When no agreement could be negotiated, they called on the younger Mr. Berklee to bring Miss Zwick back to London while the gentlemen had words.” Ultimately, Arling would give her money, Bingley told them, but he would not acknowledge any child, or give up his engagement to his cousin. 

"Berklee was furious," Bingley continued. "Frankly, I am shocked that Arling had the nerve to keep on denying him. In Gloucester they narrowly avoided a bloody and angry dual. Darcy had to physically intercede and the magistrate was called."

Jane gasped while Elizabeth sat, struck dumb.

"All the while, Miss Zwick and Edmund Berklee were traveling back to London. It was somewhere along the way that he proposed marriage to her. When Miss Eleanor and Mrs. Berklee left town earlier this week it was to go with Edmund Berklee to inform his parents of their intentions. The couple now plans to leave for Ireland tomorrow, for a wedding holiday."

“Heavens,” was all that Elizabeth could manage to say.

Finally, Jane found a voice to praise both the groom and the bride, though she needed reassuring from her family at every word. "It is very unexpected, but the ending is perhaps the best news that I can imagine, yes? Eleanor and Edmund Berklee will be a blessing on each other, I am sure. Will they not? Indeed. Bless them both, for this leap of faith they take! Don’t you agree Elizabeth?”


	38. Chapter 38

"I could scarcely credit it!—I could scarcely believe it!" Mrs. May kept repeating. She made her friends go over the story again and again. Her appetite for details and resolution was long unsatisfied and she wore Bingley to the end of his stamina before she was done with questions. But along with her dogged interest, she also came sharing one additional piece of news that was unknown to the Bingley household. "There was word today in the paper that Mr. Arling and his cousin, Miss Lews, are announcing their engagement! The wedding will take place in September.”

“Next month?” Jane was a little alarmed. "But it is for the best, perhaps? Eleanor and Mr. Berklee are gone to Ireland. This way the business is done quickly and outside of their notice."

"It takes incredible conceit," was Elizabeth's opinion. She threw the paper which contained the announcement down on the table.

Elizabeth and Jane would not agree to go with Mrs. May to the Berklee house though she tried several times to convince them. "I do not expect to see either Georgiana or Eleanor again this summer,” Elizabeth finally said plainly, when all her evasion failed.

"I am beginning some knitted work for an infant,” Jane explained to her friend. “When I am done I shall send it with a note so that Eleanor knows we are not in variance. By next summer we can all come together as long separated friends." 

“It is then that she shall want our support,” added Elizabeth. 

“I suppose it would be unbearable to be turned away again," Mrs. May rationalized their hesitation. 

***

Mrs. May departed Ennismore, wishing her friends well. It was like the night of the Matlock ball all over again, though this time it was scarcely a few weeks until Jane and Bingley were due to join her and Mr. May for a visit in Sussex. 

“You do not need to return to Netherfield at all,” Mrs. May reminded Jane as she walked to her carriage. She did not want to be without her friends, even for a short time. “Whatever you need you can borrow from me; or you can make a list and have everything sent straight to my home. That way you may join us just as soon as you can.” 

Jane promised to begin her packing now and let Mrs. May know what she would do. “But I must think on the children first. Elizabeth and I must still prepare them for the move.” 

Mrs. May caught both Jane and Elizabeth by the hand. “Dear ladies, I could not have bourn this week without you,” she told the sisters with the earnest feeling that was her custom. Then, with perhaps more than her usual insight, “It is just dreadful to feel so useless.”

After that she was on her way.

Later that afternoon, the maid came to find Elizabeth busy in the nursery, pulling out and sorting the children’s clothes. She informed her that Mr. Darcy had come to the house.

Elizabeth would be right down and could not stop herself from feeling both very glad and a little anxious that the man was there. "Welcome back sir," she said after hurrying a curtsy. Their last, brief meeting in the carriage was foremost in her mind and she looked quickly for any marks of disappointment that might be evident in his manners as he stood and bowed towards her.

He interrupted her reflection by apologizing immediately. "Ma’am, I must beg your pardon for my behavior when I saw you last. If I did not like the situation that morning in front of the theater, it was assuredly not your fault that any of us were there. You should not have seen my anger at it.”

Elizabeth felt a weak smile ease on her face and thanked him for his words. "It is kind of you to say so, especially since I can't think that anyone has apologized for their trespasses against you this week."

Darcy shook his head, but would not say it was true.

Elizabeth asked him to sit next to her and when he did, she continued, "You should know that there are many grateful people who realize what you have done and at what great cost.”

"Did Bingley tell you much about what occurred?"

"He shared a little," Elizabeth admitted, hoping it did not sound too much like gossip.

Darcy however, was willing to say more. "Arling was completely unrepentant," he told her. "I have never seen Berklee so angry. I thought there would be murder done in that inn.” 

"That is hard to imagine," Elizabeth said. Before this week she had always taken Berklee for a man of judgment but not passion. "It sounds as though you worked something of a miracle in resolving everything."

Darcy looked sadder than she hoped. He would not take the credit she thought was due to him.

"It has come out alright," she reminded him, "and there is a good marriage made." Elizabeth watched his face, until she recognized what he did not say. "You—you disapprove of Eleanor and Edmund Berklee marrying?"

"I do."

“But a woman alone with a baby?” Elizabeth was astonished. "I thought it a noble, selfless gesture on Berklee's part. And rather an incredible stroke of fortune on Eleanor's. What possible better outcome was there?”

Darcy tried to explain his misgivings. "I approve of the wedding enormously in theory. Our practice of punishing mistakes by ruining the lives of young people is barbaric. But no, I do not like this particular wedding. I know that Berklee has long loved her—since last summer. And I know that she is grateful to him. I only hope that can be enough to balance the many challenges of their union.”

Elizabeth felt a new hurt in her heart for the two newlyweds that she had not before realized they deserved. And she felt it also for Mr. Darcy, who seemed genuinely to mourn the occasion. "You sound as though they have disappointed you."

"They have, if I am speaking honestly. I think that Berklee is taking advantage of his new wife and parading it as a sort of selfless virtue. And Miss Zwick, I wish had acted with more wisdom at every step of this matter." He sighed loudly. "But that is enough judgment from me—except to say that their foolishness was completely and thoroughly outdone by Arling's."

Darcy's tone bit in a way that made Elizabeth feel uneasy. "You saw his engagement announcement in the paper today?" 

Darcy had.

"And have you met his fiancee?" she asked, uncertain.

"We have met, though I cannot recall much about the woman. Her oldest brother though, is my cousin's good friend."

"Oh yes," Elizabeth remembered. "Arling told me about that.”

"I cannot highly recommend either man, except as gamblers, ruiners, and abusers of station.”

"I did get something of that impression from what I heard," she said, thinking of the torn undergarment and the missing father at the Matlock Ball.

Darcy's expression clouded over at the thought. He looked at Elizabeth as if he were really trying to convince her of something she needed to know. "Col. Fitzwilliam is time and again a better man than the new Lord Matlock. Richard told me that he dared not leave Alice alone when he took her home to visit during Easter, lest his brother even  _ talk _ with her. Walter cannot be trusted to act appropriately even when their mother is present.”

Elizabeth recognized disgust in Darcy’s cold expression. Darcy was in no mood to put up with anyone's failings today, not even his family. But tomorrow, perhaps, he would not want anyone to think ill of his cousin, so she interrupted to ask about his sister.

"She is well enough. While the new Berklees are away she is remaking their rooms at the school."

“That is a thoughtful gift.”

“Edmund Berklee’s student accommodations are hardly fit for a wife," Darcy grunted. Then he appeared to grow annoyed at himself. "I must practice restraint. If I am to talk about what has happened, it should not be to condemn, but rather to praise those who deserve it." He gestured towards Elizabeth. "You were remarkable in your actions and very brave in Eleanor's service. I greatly admire what you did on her behalf that first night. When there was no one else to give her aid, there was you.”

Elizabeth looked away. "Bingley did the hardest work and all while suffering with a fever,” she reminded him.

"Bingley could not have tracked down Arling on his own. Not in that state. And besides, he has your sister to tell him how well he has done.”

Elizabeth smiled, looking at her feet. "Yes. And I think they must be home soon. No doubt you will have much to discuss with him.” She looked past Darcy, out the window towards the street.

"I should get on with things then. May I?” Darcy reached for her hand. He held it lightly for just a moment, before she pulled it back to her lap."

Darcy looked her in the eyes, not understanding.

"Sir, I—“ she started.

"Are you still afraid of this?" he asked, incredulous.

She had no easy answer for him, nor did he have ready words for her. 

"Why?" he asked, because that was what he most needed to know. Then he looked down, guilty, as if Elizabeth accused him of something. "I cannot think that you hate me any longer—we have long since worked through those initial misunderstandings."

"We are very good friends now, as you well know."

"That is what I have felt. But I have been mistaken before." 

They proceeded to watch each other again for a time, each wanting to speak and afraid to speak. Finally they both started. 

”You are a noble man—“

"I doubt myself—“ 

Darcy spoke again, agitated. “Is there something I have done? This is a rough week, I admit, for marriage; but do you mistrust that I would care for you and your daughter? I will speak whatever vows it takes to convince you. If only you will tell me—” 

When she did not answer he finally added, "Please, I cannot fight a ghost."

Elizabeth's posture stiffened. Darcy's words hung in the silence.

"You are referring, I suppose, to my husband," she said eventually. "You think that I will not marry you because of George."

"Yes," he answered. "Perhaps. I do wonder—perhaps you love him still? Or perhaps it is out of a loyalty to Wickham, because he hated me. Because of what I did to him.”

Elizabeth shook her head. Then steeling herself, she asked what she had previously not been able to. "Why did you never say anything about him and Georgiana?"

Mr. Darcy’s face folded in disgust. "Who told you about that? Was it my sister? Or did Richard say something?"

"It was Georgiana. She came to me some months ago begging forgiveness for  _ tempting my husband _ ."

Darcy turned his head away, appalled.

"Which is madness of course," Elizabeth hurried. "And I am very sorry that she feels that way. I had hoped that she would talk to you about it so that you could reassure her. She is afraid that Mr. Berklee—"

Darcy stood, strode to the corner of the room, and then returned. "She was so young when it happened."

"Yes, young enough to be led, but still old enough to feel culpable. I was surprised to hear her story. You have not said anything bad about George since that night in Cheapside. I suppose that must have been what you were trying to tell me then, that I would not hear.“

Darcy nodded that it was. “Forgive my asking, but were you happy with him? Honestly, I have never been able to tell. You speak so impenetrably about Wickham."

"Yes," she admitted, "I was very happy for a time."

"And when that time was over?"

"Then I was very unhappy."

Darcy's mouth tightened. Was it pity on his face? Finally he begged, “Let me be of use to you and Lucy. Married, I can assist you in a material way that I cannot as your friend." 

She waved an arm. “I am amply cared for; and I have told you, I am resolved to live modestly."

"Very well, then let us marry for companionship alone. We can be a devoted and loving family, you, me, and Lucy."

Elizabeth put a hand to her heart. "I am not saying no. But please,” she begged, “will you let me think on your proposal?"

"I hope that you will," he answered, voice rough. "May I call on you tomorrow morning?"

"Of course," Elizabeth answered. 

"I will be here at eleven." He hesitated to leave, wanting, perhaps, for her to stop him. Finally he stood and walked to the door.

"I should add," he spoke from the threshold, "that I am tired of all this and I wish to take you home. I want to live in the same place and end this business of forever saying goodbye. But, Mrs. Wickham, my love for you is a steady and complete thing. If you cannot be happy with me, or cannot be happy in the married state at all, then please do not feel you should say yes. There is no reason to go down this path unless you think that it can bring you satisfaction."

"I understand."

He left her with a bow.


	39. Chapter 39

Elizabeth spent the long afternoon in deep contemplation. When Jane and Bingley returned home, she avoided their company in favor of her empty room. She gave a little falsehood, saying that she was poorly and they left her alone with some thin soup. And though she retired early, sleep came late and the morning, wearily. 

But despite the hours of struggle, as soon as the sun rose, Elizabeth roused herself. She dressed, saw to the children, and then set up her desk in the sitting room and wrote with uncommon speed. She had several hours to wait for Mr. Darcy during which time she finished a long and complicated letter to Dr. Whitten. And after that job was done she waited longer still because Mr. Darcy was late. 

At past one, Elizabeth was distractedly attempting to apply pen to paper, her progress now stalled. She practically jumped from her chair when the maid came to announce the gentleman into the room. 

“Sir, I am in such a state. These two hours have seemed a lifetime,” she said quickly moving to greet him. "But I suppose it is no matter that we are delayed; Jane has gone out, but she will return shortly, and we can share our good news with her in private before we all go to dinner this evening." Dinner would likely include Georgiana and Berklee, but Elizabeth felt bravely prepared to meet that trial. 

"What is your meaning, madam?"

Interrupted by those words, Elizabeth halted. She looked up at Darcy's face, but found his expression unforthcoming. "Forgive me for getting ahead of myself," she continued more slowly. "What I mean to say is that I am accepting your proposal. I am saying yes—if you have not withdrawn it since yesterday."

She reached a hand out and finished with a genuine, happy smile. It was a look that endeared Elizabeth to all around her, and it broke Darcy's cold facade.

"Woman, are you wicked? Are you trying to be purposefully cruel? Is this your carefully plotted revenge for some wrong that I have done you?"

Elizabeth staggered back, without breath and unable to answer.

Unwilling to look at her, Darcy turned away, saying, "Or worst of all, could you really know nothing and this is some terrible turn of fate against us both?" 

"I don't understand sir. What—what are you speaking of?" 

"No, of course you don't. You never understand. You never know! Perhaps we should go and ask your husband what has happened? _ He _ will explain everything I am sure!"

Darcy turned back in time to see Elizabeth’s skin pale. For a few brief seconds he was diverted from his anger purely out of concern that she might faint straight away. But he held himself steady and _ did not go to her _. 

On her side, Elizabeth felt her head grow heavy and vision blur. Her torso and legs slipped to the ground. She had not fainted. 'But neither can I stand', she thought. 

"Your husband is alive," she heard him say, bitterly. "And I must assume that your strange behavior all these months was because you already knew this." 

"I suspected," was all that she said in response.

***

Neither Mr. Darcy nor Elizabeth attempted any further conversation for a very long time. 

Darcy remained frozen hard where he stood; Elizabeth, for the second time in her life, cried unto complete exhaustion. When she could continue on no longer, she lay prone, heaving and silent on the carpet. 

When they were both quiet, it was Darcy who finally said, "Your sister has returned. I can hear her."

"She won’t bother us," Elizabeth managed as an answer.

"Will you tell me how long have you known?" he asked coldly.

"Since the beginning. Practically."

Darcy gasped, stupefied. Then mercilessly, he dug again. ”And how did you find out?"

"There was money taken from my London banking account. It began a month after George died. And continued occasionally until last spring." 

“Bingley never noticed that money was going missing?"

"Bingley is a good brother, but he is not attentive to my financial details beyond seeing that I have the means to live comfortably." 

“Why have you never said anything? That is idiocy. How could you even know it was Wickham? What if some other person had been stealing from you?" 

“I knew it was him.”

All the time Elizabeth had cried, Darcy had remained standing, towering like a monolith above her. But now, feeling his absolute fatigue, he finally retreated to the closest couch. He watched her through fingers, where he rested his heavy head on his hand. Elizabeth looked back from below—from where she remained on the floor. "What have you heard?" she asked, barely able to work her broken voice.

Darcy's own speech came out gravely and jarring. "That Wickham has been in Belgium and then Amsterdam; that some prolonged illness kept him there; that he has returned with important information for the military and is declared a hero; and that now, unbelievably, he goes about town, paying old debts.” 

"He is here in London?!" she gasped.

Darcy nodded. "Fitzwilliam has seen him." Bitingly he added, "Your husband intends to find you."

Elizabeth let her head fall. "What have I done?" 

"This could have been different," Darcy struck out again. "Why could you not say yes to me, even a week ago? If we were married this would be different. Do you understand? I cannot help you now! Legally, morally, I have no right. I should not even be here now!”

Elizabeth was overcome. ”You’re right! I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” she repeated. “I should have better guarded us both from temptation.”

Darcy leaned back from her, as if burnt or bit. “No. Until now, we have done nothing wrong. I have asked nothing and wanted nothing from you that was improper, if that is what you are implying.”

“For you perhaps, that is true. You are good! All your misadventures in marriage and love are proof of your virtue. Mine are not. No. This unhappy situation is what I deserve.”

Elizabeth tossed her head, feeling crazed with anger and remorse. “I was so happy when George died, that he was gone and Lucy's reputation was still intact. If George had not gambled so much when we arrived in Scotland, I might never have left. It is disgusting, is it not? That _ money _ is what drove me away? I dirtied myself... Do you know that he has been with other women? I knew it even before he disappeared—before Lucy. Shouldn't that void my obligation to him? I chased away those girls, when it should have been him.” Her anger made her swell from her low place.

"I should leave," Darcy said, his movements restless and confused. 

“Yes go, before it ruins us both! As you say, I am a married woman still.”

***

"Mr. Darcy has gone?" Jane asked peeking into the sitting room.

Elizabeth shoulders hung weakly, her eyes sunken and tired. She was laying across the couch. "Yes. He's gone now."

Slowly Jane drew closer to her sister. She approached hesitantly, her face frozen, waiting to react to what Elizabeth must say.

"I am afraid, Jane. I don't know what to do."

Jane might thrive on encouraging platitudes, but hearing Elizabeth’s tone, she set her jaw. She sat beside Elizabeth and pulled her tight to her side. That little bit of tenderness punctured a dam of tightly guarded words and feelings. Elizabeth did not share all—how could anyone? But she began to tell her sister raw bits about what had happened—Darcy's proposal, her husband’s return, the quality of her years of marriage, and the state of her heart—all more than she had ever previously shared. Soon both sisters were in tears.

"I have only myself to blame," said Elizabeth, feeling weighted, “but how can I go on? All those years, both before and after, they cannot be unlived!" Elizabeth looked at her sister, knowing there was no answer but wanting some of Jane's serenity and all of her comfort. 

"I am afraid, Jane," Elizabeth repeated. 

"Sweet Lizzy," Jane told her, wiping both their faces with a handkerchief. "Sweet sister. I will not let you be hurt where I have the power to prevent it. I do not know what we will do yet about this problem, but you are not alone."

Elizabeth let herself be consoled as far as she could and then persuaded upstairs into bed until Bingley came home and they could all three make a plan together.

Bingley had known his duty as a brother even before he returned to his wife. Captain George Wickham was the talk of the town. His remarkable story was told even in the afternoon newspapers, with promises of further details to follow the next day. He was a hero of the kingdom—recognized by the Lord Commander himself for services rendered after being captured by the French. All this Bingley knew from friends and acquaintances who swarmed him at the club and on his way home.

Jane met him at the front door. Confusing and distressing—and still too vague—was the picture that they put together from what they both knew.

"We will have to make the best out of this that we can," Bingley insisted.

"Should we hire a lawyer?" Jane asked, when all three were together. "There are legal steps that could be taken."

Elizabeth shook her head. "I know little enough, but I do know that if what Bingley says is true, George is a war hero. I would be lucky to even get a divorce. And think how awful that would look for Lucy—and for you and your family. No, all I want is to be sure that Lucy will stay with me. It is a modest request, and if I make no others he is unlikely to argue." 

"I will find him and talk with him," Bingley promised, posture resolute. "We will make a gentleman's agreement."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not responding yet to everyone's comments and questions after the last chapter. It seemed prudent to wait until this went up.


	40. Chapter 40

When Charles Bingley promised his wife and her sister that he would speak to Captain George Wickham, he made his vow with every good intention. But he should not be faulted for hoping that he might never be called on to fulfill it. After all, Capt. Wickham would perhaps see the wisdom of keeping his distance from Elizabeth entirely on his own and the peace would be maintained without any confrontation.

Bingley would not be so lucky.

"If dear Mrs. May returns again, I shall entirely lose my composure," Elizabeth was telling her sister, when the morning letters were being delivered the next day. Her heart dropped when she saw a note meant for herself, written in a not yet forgotten script. By the time she handed the page to Bingley, her lips had gone purple and cold, despite the heat of the day.

Capt. Wickham _ would _ see his daughter and wife. He planned to call the next morning, if nothing sooner were convenient. 

Jane reminded her husband and sister both that the discussion between the gentlemen needed to happen and that this was the perfect time to have it take place. "Elizabeth and I will take the children out to the country for the day." 

They were all three resigned.

***

After Charles Bingley lost both his parents at a tender age he developed a strategy of taking advice from a group of trusted sources, as a way of compensating for their missing guidance. Key amongst his confidants was Mr. Darcy and it was a natural thing to go to him that morning for whatever aid could be had. 

"I am instructed to be amicable.” Bingley told Darcy. “Elizabeth is a little afraid of denying him. And after what I have been told, I am a little afraid of denying him myself."

Darcy’s voice was cold. "She never should have accepted him in the first place."

Bingley huffed. "Well we can all agree on that!" He went on thinking out loud. “However, Elizabeth wants no spectacle. Wickham shall have to be placated—encouraged to live as a single man, away from his wife and daughter. Jane will not let me say it, but, I can not think of what we will do if he decides that he wants Lucy."

"It will be hard to deny him if he insists."

"I know! He must be convinced that it is in his best interests to leave the child with Mrs. Wickham. It would be a disaster to try and get the girl away if he decides to claim her."

"There would have to be a divorce. And then Mr. Bennet would have to sue for custody." 

Bingley thought of Mr. Bennet's lethargy. "It would not be easy—"

"And Mrs. Wickham will not want a divorce."

"Will you help me? You know the man better than I."

Darcy rocked in his chair for a moment before answering. "I am not sure that I should. I am not family." 

"But you are an intimate friend of the family. Please, Darcy. I would rather you were there."

***

When the time came, Mr. Darcy could not stay away. Poor Bingley, he told himself, did not have the temperament to discuss terms with Wickham. After all, what would have happened to Berklee and Arling if Darcy had not been there to intercede?

Jane, Elizabeth, and the three children left the house very early that morning. The late August day was still long, and they planned to enjoy the full length of it in the countryside just outside of London. Back at Ennismore house, Bingley plotted with Darcy. They convened in Bingley's office, starting several hours before they might expect their unwanted guest. 

"Shall I give him brandy to start? It might soften him up."

Darcy recalled to Bingley that Wickham was even less pleasant when he drank. “You must remember that from Cambridge.”

At a quarter to the hour of eleven, the sounds of bodies moving in hallway grew louder, and very shortly the man was announced. 

Wickham strode past the groom and in to the office. He was darkly tanned, lighter of hair, and rather broader of shoulder than Darcy could remember him being, as if his body had been put to recent hard work in the sun. His frame filled the doorway and crowded the narrow office. He was also very finely dressed and greeted them in French.

"You know, it is very disappointing to expect to see one's beautiful wife, but to be met instead by your sorry faces," he gestured at the waiting gentlemen. When no one answered him, he set his jaw, shrugged, and continued. "No matter. If Mrs. Wickham is not here, I shall be resigned to leave a letter for her. Brother Bingley, if you will be so kind as to provide me with pen and paper, I will get on with it. My time is short. I am expected at the Horse Guards the top of the hour, at the Secretary of War's request. You will please tell my wife that the War Office is also holding a reception tomorrow night, which I trust that she will attend with me.” 

"I do not believe that my sister is available," Bingley suggested.

"She can change her plans surely." 

"My dear sir," Bingley started his speech formally, "you have been away for a number of years now, and without any communication at all. You were thought dead and your wife is both surprised and reasonably hesitant about what this all means. You cannot expect her to pick up with you just as if you had never been gone."

"Elizabeth is in shock, I am sure. But we could never stand to be in variance for long."

Bingley nodded once. "That may well be true, but I must caution you to proceed carefully. It is my duty through my wife to look out for Mrs. Wickham and her well being. And no woman can be moved before her time or without her leave.”

"I admire your concern, Bingley," Wickham said with a bow. "And I will respect your call for careful action. Now, would you run off and find me a decent quill? I can see the ones on your desk are misformed. You needn't feel rude about leaving—it will give me a few minutes to speak with my old friend Darcy." 

Until this time, Wickham had barely looked at or acknowledged Darcy. Bingley would not say no to such a modest request as a pen and moved to go obtain it. He looked Darcy in the eye, then carefully shut the door behind him as he left.

"Tell me Darcy, what brings you here?" Wickham asked, conversationally.

Darcy grunted. "I spend a great many of my mornings here.”

Wickham sighed. "Such a curt answer to my inquiry," he said, looking around and then choosing the chair closest to his childhood friend. ”You aren't glad to see me?"

"I'm sure you will understand my disappointment. I had thought you dead."

"That is severe even for you," Wickham scolded. "So tell me again, why are you here? I asked to meet with Elizabeth. If she will not talk with me, then it really should be Mr. Bennet who claims an audience."

"I came in the service of a friend."

"Ha." He eyed Darcy, accusingly, as if he had caught him in the midst of some unscrupulous act. A small, teasing smile just touched his lips. "Fitzwilliam Darcy, I think that you have been coveting my wife. That's a sin, you know."

Darcy flinched in his chair, but forced himself to stay seated. "I'm not certain that you should call her that anymore," said Darcy, ignoring the accusation. 

"Why? She is not married again," Wickham said, his words cutting for all the pleasantness of his tone. He readjusted himself casually. "If she had done so while I was thought dead, then I would perhaps have a problem. But I remain her once and future husband."

Darcy blinked quickly. "Mrs. Wickham does not want to be your wife any longer. On her behalf I ask that you would let her go." 

"Bingley made no such claim. And if I have done some wrong to Elizabeth then I shall make amends. We always work out our squabbles, her and I."

“She has let it be known how you treated her—”

“Mrs. Wickham had her feelings hurt in Scotland before we were separated, and I have grieved these two years that I have not been able to apologize and put things right. But I promise, it will be done. She will have no reason to lament my return." 

"You cannot make this sound as if you have done nothing wrong,” Darcy growled.

"What do you pretend to know?" Wickham retorted, sounding more angry. "You sir, know nothing of our marriage. She has been happier with me than at any other time in her life. Before I married her she was stuck in that sorry little town—”

"And when she returned to Hertfordshire she was found pregnant and ill, lying on the ground with worn shoes..." he began to repeat the story he had heard.

"She is my wife, Darcy! You have no right to concern yourself in our affairs or her appearance. And yet, you would poison her against me out of spite. And deny me my daughter out of vindictiveness! What are they?—what lies have you been telling Elizabeth about me, while I was made to stay away?”

“I have spoken of you, these two years, with all the respect due to the dead.” 

“A small consolation for your beastly behavior before and since. Do you know, I realized something last year: that as soon as you thought I was dead, everything started to resolve itself. No one came after me for debts I had not earned; no one mysteriously snubbed me, after being welcoming the day before; no one charged me extra for services, because I was friendless. All my life you ruined me at every opportunity. And only because I once dared to be better than you. It was why you couldn’t let me win Georgiana.” 

“My sister has nothing to do with why I am here today!"

"Don't pretend to be virtuous. It is just the same with Elizabeth. You only ever wanted her because I did. She was nothing to you before you saw me speak with her. She is not even the sort of woman you favor; that is how absurd and petty you are. Your whole life you have liked pliant women—good little wives who would not argue for anything but their virtue. Elizabeth is witty and clever; and you would make her your miserable wife or your miserable mistress all because you think it would hurt me. She held no allure for you until she was a prize to be wrested away—" 

"You could leave England again." Darcy said loudly, to interrupt. "Go back to Belgium where you have lived so happily. I will make it so that you can live there very handsomely."

Wickham scoffed, "Don't be crude. You have nothing that I want, except the ear of my wife."

Darcy fought hard to keep from tearing at his hair. Wickham knew him too well and he was at a loss how to make his feelings appear what they were not. And there was another problem here, that Darcy had not before experienced. If Wickham did not want his money, then Darcy had no position from which to bargain. As much reason as he had to rue Wickham's constant want of wealth, without it, there was nothing to catch hold of as the argument slid away from him. 

When Wickham began to speak again, it was calmer, more conversational, and without the piercing quality that he had moments before. "She tastes like melons, you know, during the summer. And like spiced wine in the winter. And she dabs just a bit of peppermint oil on her neck before she says her prayers and goes to sleep at night."

"That's a beastly thing—to share such intimacies!" Darcy barked. 

"Remember then: I know her in ways that you do not. You stare at her from across the room and think that you want her. But that is not the same as loving someone."

"Why would you still want her? Why, when she does not want you?"

"Fitzwilliam Darcy, as always, you are a filthy hypocrite. Now go find what keeps my brother-in-law. I have a letter to write." 

Darcy left the office looking pale. In the hallway stood Bingley, silent, holding a pen. "Go in. I have done you no favors," Darcy said, before walking away.


	41. Chapter 41

Elizabeth's nervous impatience about the meeting brought the carriage home earlier than she and Jane had originally planned. Still, by the time they arrived at Ennismore, the children were all fallen fast asleep and the house was quiet and empty. They had taken an early dinner in the country and put the little ones straight into their beds. Elizabeth was methodical about the duty and only when it was thoroughly done did she go to Bingley’s study.

Bingley was wan; but he answered her questions and spoke of the meeting with a favorable attitude. It confused Elizabeth who wondered what could have happened that would match his contradictory demeanor.

"There is a letter just there for you," Bingley told her, pointing.

Elizabeth took it. "This is from George?" she confirmed. 

"Your husband would not go without leaving it."

Elizabeth broke the seal and unfolded the pages before hesitating. "Do you know what he has written?" 

"He did not say and I've not looked inside. He made Darcy and I promise not to break your confidence.”

"Mr. Darcy was here?"

"Eh, yes." Bingley admitted. "But he did not stay long."

That answer agitated her—but in her hand was a more pressing concern. Afraid of letting her emotions show, Elizabeth told Jane and Bingley that she was going to her room to read, but that she would be back to talk with them after.

"Of course," Jane assured her. 

Elizabeth shut her bedroom door tight and sat. Finally, taking a deep breath, she began the letter.

Once the page was flattened and the pain of anticipation faded, she found the words were not so terrible as she imagined. It reaffirmed Wickham’s previous request to meet, but it was pleasantly stated and effusive in her praise. There were no demands that she present herself or turn over the child, no threats either overt or implied. It quelled her fears for the immediate future, though of course, she must still plan for a more uncertain and more distant time to come. She thought of what she knew and made a decision.

Elizabeth returned to the sitting room and told her sister and Bingley her plan. "We have twice these past weeks delayed our exit from town. You both are wanted at the May's and I will go back to Hertfordshire with the children."

Jane had been supporting herself by holding Bingley’s hand. Now, she dropped it. “Now? Lizzy, can you mean that?" 

The tumult of Elizabeth's mind was quieted in thinking about the peace of the country. She was desperate for it. "It is time for me to go home,” she said, to soothe her stinging heart. 

***

In reply to her husband, Elizabeth wrote briefly that he had caught her in mid-move, and that she would be in further contact with him once she was reestablished in Hertfordshire. It was a short letter, but Elizabeth insured,  _ very _ civil, so that he too would fear nothing on her account. 

"I've sent a letter to the Mays saying that we are coming," Jane warned Elizabeth the next day. She did not want to go, but relented when Elizabeth absolutely insisted upon it.

"Good. This will make everything seem as normal as possible."

"If we go to Sussex, Mrs. May will ask questions."

"If you do not, she will ask more," Elizabeth quipped, laughing in a way that was not funny. "You must do your best to make my life sound as boring as possible and have them all forget. It is the truth, anyway. It is all very boring—"

After this, Elizabeth did not delay. She roused the servants and had the last of the packing rushed so that she could depart immediately after lunch.

"Thank you,” Elizabeth told Jane, as the children and Miss Jenny were loaded again in the carriage. "I don't mean to be evasive. I just need time where it is quiet to think and to correspond with Wickham at my leisure.” Elizabeth gave an ironic little snort. “He and I may be at odds, but I found myself agreeing when he wrote me that the very suddenness of this commotion is perhaps the cruelest part of all.

Jane said nothing about this, but conceded to the plan. She did, however, insisted that Elizabeth go to Longbourn and not Netherfield. Jane wanted to be convinced that everything was ok, but could not quite forget Elizabeth’s immediate reaction to hearing about her husband. "Living in your father's house there is enough legal standing to delay any immediate action by Mr. Wickham if he were to decide to come and claim Lucy. And if anything at all should happen, you will write to me immediately."

“I am trying to be practical, Jane,” said Elizabeth sounding overwhelmed instead. "And you saw his letter, it was not threatening."

Jane reminded her, "Though the letter may not have been threatening, it was limited. Mr. Wickham ignores completely the reason for your estrangement." 

“As if either of us could forget.”

"Please, Lizzy. I am very accustomed to looking at the best in people. But that does not mean that you let them continue to make choices that are bad for you. He must prove his worth by his behavior, and win your trust and your heart again only if he can." 

"You are right." Elizabeth said. "Thank you." 

***

Mr. and Mrs Bennet were surprised to be visited, but readily welcomed their daughter and grandchildren at Elizabeth's words. 

"Dreadfully sorry," she apologized. "I hope it is not too much trouble if we all stay over while Jane and Bingley are away." 

Mr. Bennet had a kiss on the cheek for his daughter. He tried to have Elizabeth join him in his office, but she demurred, making vague excuses. Jane had already written days earlier to tell them of Captain Wickham's resurrection. Elizabeth's mother did not understand what was happening, but she took her two granddaughters by the hand to open up the spare bedrooms. "Hill?" she asked while being pulled by the young girls, "Please see if cook can add some cold meats to the supper."

Mr. Bennet did not understand what had happened to his son-in-law any more than his wife, but he was contented with commenting on there being a great mismanagement in the King’s Army that she could not keep track of her officers. 

Elizabeth nodded and picked up her mother's knitting basket, seeking out a lonely corner of the sitting room. 

***

Of all the things that might have happened, Elizabeth did not expect the complete quiet that followed her traveling to Longbourn.

For better than nine days, there was no word from Wickham; only Jane wrote daily to inquire after her sister. Eventually, Jane's letters and Elizabeth's responses became rote as there was soon nothing to add that Elizabeth felt able to say.

Elizabeth spent this time in deep contemplation. As each day ended she grieved and celebrated her being ignored. She ruminated also on Mr. Darcy but made equally little progress on those thoughts. He had been so good and kind to her and she had paid it back with half truths and heartbreak. She wished he were present so that she could truly apologize. If only they could talk again, maybe she could put their friendship right. Or, if must they return to their days of uncomfortably ignoring each other, at least he would know that he did not deserve it. 

Finally after a week and a half of silence, a letter at last arrived from Capt. Wickham.

_ My dearest wife Elizabeth,  _

_ I am not certain if you have received my previous two letters, so I will begin this one again as I have begun them all—by reminding you that you are most deeply loved and dearly missed by your husband. I was ripped away from you and our daughter two years ago and, in being resurrected to my former life, it is my most heartfelt wish that we would be reconciled as a family as soon as possible.  _

_ I will concede that if there is any hesitation on your part, that I can understand it. We were too long forced to live our separate lives and to build up a hardness of heart to sustain ourselves. I hope that you will forgive me (for this and for many things), but I have taken the opportunity to contact Mrs. Wedgewood and ask for her assistance in reaching out to you. I have enclosed a letter, written by her, that I hope will not only remind you of our happy past, but also let you feel what we might be again as a family. Many people worthy of our love and respect are wishing for us to overcome this last hurdle. I feel their support succoring me and I dearly hope that you will as well.  _

_ I will gratefully receive you any time at my rooms at the directions listed below. _

_ Forever yours, _

_ G. Wickham _

‘No, no!’ Elizabeth thought, and read the first line again. What previous letters was he speaking of? She had seen nothing from him since she last wrote. And her heart dropped again when she read Mrs. Wedgewood's name. But no, she reminded herself, Leah Wedgewood was a deeply good woman, who loved Elizabeth, and loved Lucy. She could be a source of help, if Elizabeth could overcome this powerful desire to have no one witness her shameful conflict with her husband.

Elizabeth unfolded the enclosed paper. It was addressed from Mrs. Wedgewood in Liverpool to Elizabeth Wickham, care of Capt. George Wickham at his address in London.

_ Dearest Elizabeth, _

_ Forgive me for not contacting you sooner. I should have thanked you already and several times over for supporting and helping my dear sister Eleanor through her difficult time. Let me now return the favor and support you as I am able. _

_ I received a note this morning from your husband. He wrote, seeking my assistance in speaking with you. Please do not be angry with him for acting this way and bringing a third person into a matter between husband and wife. He is afraid and has been too long away from you; and therefore, he wanted to have a councilor, trusted by both parties, to help reestablish a marriage union that has gone through a frightening and uncommon trial.  _

_ Alliances between persons can be shattered by outside forces; but they can be saved by a willingness by the primaries to understand and forgive. It is natural to feel pain, or even betrayal by your husband, because you were hurt by his long absence. But remember also why you were hurt—Captain Wickham is a good man, and you were the best of couples together. When you are united again you will remember how he appreciated your fine mind, your quick wit, and your keen heart. Recall in Newcastle that when the two of you moved in unison, nothing could stop you. _

_ Yours very sincerely, _

_ Mrs. L. Wedgewood _

Elizabeth sank back and wiped her eyes, her thoughts racing. She wondered again about the missing letters from her husband. Could they have gone astray between Ennismore and here? It was a blow to know that after she had done her best to keep things civil, he would think that she was ignoring him. Wickham was impatient with correspondence, she remembered, and she felt like she must grant him an audience now to make amends for the long wait. Yes, it was entirely possible to go to London in a day and return by nightfall. ‘And, after all,’ she justified, ‘it is so difficult to understand someone without seeing and speaking with them.’

Of course Jane would worry; so, making it easier on herself, Elizabeth resolved to send her sister a letter admitting to the meeting only in the morning as she left. That way Jane would not know of her going to London until she was already returned safely home again.

  
  



	42. Chapter 42

A hired coach brought Elizabeth out of Hertfordshire in the morning and arrived in London by midday. There she switched to a smaller hack, which carried her to the neighborhood of Whitehall, not far from the War Office. At the address given, Elizabeth found a well kept brick tenement. Outside the tenement, she saw a number of young children and their mothers—most from military families, she guessed—all going about their domestic routines. The yard was filled with lines, laundry, and children sunning themselves in the dry autumn air. 

"Can I help you dear?" 

Elizabeth turned to find an older woman peeking through a partially opened window. Elizabeth's voice cracked when she tried to answer. "Excuse me, ma’am. I’m looking for Captain George Wickham, a resident here...I am his wife, just arrived." She added the last, worried that the woman would misjudge her visit or send her away.

"His wife! Yes, Captain Wickham told me that you would be here today. He also told me that he would be home before lunch, but I have not seen him return yet. Come inside and sit with me. I will send my girl upstairs to look for him."

The woman introduced herself as Mrs. Kirk. Elizabeth came inside and was served tea, while they waited on word from the maid. 

"If Capt. Wickham is not home yet, it is no trouble. I am here all day with the mending. You may sit with me awhile."

Mrs. Kirk was a pleasant, jolly character, and Elizabeth appreciated having the time to collect herself. The woman was exactly the sort that Elizabeth usually liked best—convivial, a good talker, and with plenty of interesting stories. Mrs. Kirk began speaking at once and taxed Elizabeth very little with the need to respond. It was only when quite some time had passed, and just as Elizabeth was beginning to wonder if Wickham would show at all, that he popped his head into the room, interrupting the narrative.

With care, Elizabeth thanked her hostess for the tea, stood, and followed her husband to the door.

“I look forward to seeing more of you,” the woman called out to Elizabeth, as an adieu.

"I am very sorry that you had to wait," Wickham said, as he scrambled to open his upstairs apartment. The accommodations were small, but clean and well lit once the windows were open. He pulled out a chair at a little breakfast table and offered it to Elizabeth . "I am glad that Mrs. Kirk found you. I trust that she saw to your needs?”

Elizabeth took her seat and answered that Mrs. Kirk had been very kind. She swallowed down a feeling of disorientation that affected her as she looked around the space—it was surprisingly homely. The smells, the simple furniture, and the man in front of her, were all so familiar yet strangely unreal.

"My delayed arrival could not be helped,” Wickham continued saying, “I was kept late at the War Office at the general's request. My new position with him keeps me exceedingly busy. I am very pleased, though, that you are here today. I wasn't at all sure that you had been getting my letters, since there was no response for so long." Then he cocked his head and inquired in a hesitating manner, "I hope, particularly, that you read Mrs. Wedgewood's letter that I forwarded."

Elizabeth confirmed that she had.

Wickham smiled. "Good. Mrs. Wedgewood is a very fine woman. One of the best I have known."

Elizabeth agreed and said so.

"She wrote correctly about my missing you deeply. I have been bereft. I am in disarray without you," Wickham went on.

Elizabeth folded her arms tight and shifted backward in her chair. Her husband responded by withdrawing to fetch a piece of paper that lay nearby on his bed stand. He brought it and placed it reverently in her hands.

"This is my commendation from the Lord General, for my work in Belgium. He credits me with bravery and loyalty. It is signed by the King.”

She looked over the official document and congratulated him.

He took the letter back from her and stored it away again with great care. "It’s a fine thing. Of course, I did not know I was working toward it when I was overseas. You will have heard that I was captured in France and kept prisoner there? It was so fortunate that I could learn what I did and make the friends that I was able.” He squinted to check Elizabeth’s expression. “It will be cold comfort though, if I am to achieve that royal commendation, but be deprived forever of your affection. Is there no way, Elizabeth, that you could forgive me for leaving you alone so long? All I want now is your return. You are all the prize that I could hope for." 

Elizabeth, opened her mouth and then shut it again. Though she had been self compelled to meet her husband and sit before him today, she still could not bring herself to talk plainly about what most tormented her. She steeled her resolve even to allude to it. "The past two years of separation make hardly half of our troubles,” she finally said.

Wickham spoke again, hurriedly. "I apologize also if I was rude to Bingley and Darcy the other day. I was nervous about seeing you and then nettled to find you were not available.”

"Bingley said nothing about your being rude," Elizabeth told him. It was true, anyway. Any anxiety she felt about the meeting was not from her brother-in-law's mild words. 

Wickham smiled softly at her, holding her gaze until she smiled back. Elizabeth knew that her husband was acting on his best behavior and trying to put her at ease. He offered to bring her a glass of water, and when she agreed, he passed it into her hands with the words, "I cannot bear to live in this solitude."

With a reluctant sigh, she finally challenged him. "It is a wonder then that you would trouble yourself with it. You have so rarely in the past.”

Wickham visibly flinched at her words. "Ah," was all he said in reply.

She watched him, but he said no more. She forced herself to continue. ”Do you even know why I left Scotland?"

Wickham looked hard back at her. "Yes. Because I made a very grievous error."

"You put us in substantial debt."

"Yes."

"And—your judgement! You have been so false!" 

Wickham sat close at hand. "We made some errors. But do recall all the good that happened those years also. Remember when we lived in Newcastle? We were a good team—a well matched pair, Mrs. Wedgewood called us. Do you remember that party where you spoke to Major Hunstan for me? You did more to win us the promotion that night than I could have in months of effort. And then later that same evening, do you recall Lt. Ripon—how that foul man would not leave you alone? I drove him away and got the Major to reassign him. We celebrated those victories together.”

Elizabeth did not like to think of those last months in Newcastle, though he was correct that she had genuinely rejoiced that night.

"I made people suffer there," she pressed. "I lied to merchants—and most especially to that woman—on your behalf.

Wickham, instead of apologizing or even denying it, instead looked proudly at Elizabeth. He nodded encouragingly and even pet her hair.

"You have always taken such good care of us," he told her. "It is your best quality— that vigilant instinct. I know the circumstances were embarrassing to you at the time, but you should be praised for what you did, not shamed for it. It was all undertaken with the powerful instinct to preserve our union and to make better our lives.” 

He continued with enthusiasm. “And both of our hard work has put us in a better position now. With my promotion, there is no need to worry about money again, ever. And you are still so clever and witty and pretty; you will awe the generals as we continue to advance ourselves. Or, if you would prefer it, I will ask to be transferred back to the same battalion as Col. Wedgewood. I still have much that I can learn from him. Our dear Mrs. Wedgewood knows there is value in our match. You know it too; that is why you always worked so hard to keep us afloat."

When she did not respond, he pulled her closer. "There is nothing to be ashamed of Lizzy, so long as we and Lucy are a family." 

Elizabeth's heart sank imagining her daughter. "That does not justify what we have done."

“We will both do better now.”

Elizabeth broke eye contact. And shaking her head, she slipped away again. "I mean to do better! But that does not require that we reconcile. Perhaps it would be easier on us both if we were to continue to live apart—” 

“Elizabeth, that is a very radical step.”

“We have built new lives these two years—“

“Why be so quick to give up what we have?“

“We would each stay with our own friends—”

"I thought there was something queer about Darcy."

Elizabeth's concentration tipped. "What?"

As she blinkingly focused back on her husband, Wickham looked at Elizabeth disdainfully. "When we met that day in Bingley's office, Darcy was acting very strange. It was as if he were embarrassed. Or hiding something. It was about you, wasn't it? He was hiding something about you."

Elizabeth shook her head. She suddenly wanted to move her chair back, but the wall behind her prevented it. ”Mr. Darcy should not have gone to meet you, it is true. It should have been a conversation amongst family. But you know how Bingley relies upon him.”

“So you let him invade our privacy because you did not want to offend him."

Elizabeth protested again. “I did not know he would be there.”

"You let Darcy do anything that he wants. Even now, you have cast off your husband and your daughter and are selling yourself to a rich man!"

"Stop! You know he would never—!” 

"It is shocking Elizabeth. You always pretended that you wanted a nice family—you wanted respectability—a place in society—a doting husband! Well here you have it,” he gestured towards himself. "Now, you say you want an apology from me? Then I am sorry for you! But that is all a lie, isn't it? You do not actually want an apology from me. I can see in your face that you want to go on being angry, no matter what I do. You want to think that you are better than me and that you deserve some better life than I can give you. You were never happy with a poor soldier like your husband and you won't be happy now. Greed has always been the ruin of you—”

"It is not greedy—”

“More and more you wanted, and then you complained when you were asked to do something about it. Well I was wrong about what I said before—you should be ashamed. You are a lying, jealous, whore, and no judge will let you keep your child if you try to take her from me."

Elizabeth took both her arms and shoved Wickham back as hard as she could.

"Let me live in peace or divorce me! The choice is more than fair!"

"No."

Elizabeth tore out of the room, down the stairs, afraid that her husband would follow her. He was too strong to outrun. When she was blocks away and panting, she finally turned around to see that he was not in the street behind her. 

***

Elizabeth found a rather less fit driver and horse to take her to Ennismore house. Upon rousing the only caretaker left in the building to unlock the door, she immediately took pen and paper and wrote out a note. A late season heat had hit the city and she felt delirious and fevered in the airless house where she locked herself. 

Twenty minutes later Darcy came to the townhouse, surprised. He had been living alone in his own London home, without returning yet to Pemberley, for the two weeks since there had first been news of Wickham. Never had he and Elizabeth exchanged a letter; not in all their years of acquaintance and friendship. He knew her writing only from missives sent to his sister, which he had picked up, perhaps, in moments of weakness. 

When the door opened and he observed Elizabeth alone, ramrod straight, in the dark, he hesitated. 

Elizabeth saw this, but did not wait to explain herself. She began talking as soon as practicable, using her words to urge the gentleman through the door.

"Are you alright?" he interrupted, looking at her damp brow and flushed neck.

"I shall be. When the hard part is done."

He blanched at the thought, but nodded and bade her to continue. 

"I know it is too much, but I have a request of you. It will be the last, I hope, that I shall need to make,” Elizabeth said, continuing despite the visible hurt that Darcy showed. “I think it possible that you will not want to assist me, but the story is one that you should hear anyway.”

Darcy answered in a voice too firm to be pleasant. "Providence may not have allowed for a union between us, but I would still aid you where I am able."

Elizabeth nodded. "I am late in resolving it, but I intend to seek a divorce from Wickham. Or an annulment rather. He will fight it either way. I need your help tracking down a woman, a Mrs. Harriet Wickham of York. And before you ask, she is George Wickham's wife. His real wife."

“—…“ Darcy looked as though he'd been stuck by a knife in the gut. "What have you done?" he finally breathed.

Elizabeth choked back, pretending as though she did not hear the accusation.

“It is my final confession. I wanted you to hear the story from me and not when it goes to the newspapers—you are owed that at least. But also, I am asking your help in finding Mrs. Wickham, because I trust that you can accomplish it. I am quite desperate, you see. Without her, I will not win the case to separate, and my husband will not let me keep Lucy. The woman and George were married before he joined the militia. Before he tried to elope with Georgiana even. I hope that their marriage records will not be too hard to find."

"Elizabeth!" Darcy said her name as if begging her to retract what she had said. "That makes Lucy illegitimate!"

Elizabeth shied. "I have failed my daughter terribly.”

"Have you just learned of all this?"

Elizabeth wanted to hide from Darcy's condemning stare. "No. I met Mrs. Wickham in Newcastle." 

Darcy made the connection. "She was one of the women you told me about?” 

"She was. She came to us pregnant, and with her five year old son. They would be four and nine years old now. I—I ran them off. I ruined their lives to save my own. I was not even expecting yet.”

"And you know absolutely that what she said was true?”

"Wickham did not deny their marriage when I confronted him. He said  _ I  _ must insist that she go—because he could not ask it of her. They were married in Sheffield, I believe."

Darcy strode to the window and back. He looked a little crazed. "Oh! I won't ask why you did not tell me about this—the reason is too clear." 

"I am sorry,” she insisted. "I am truly sorry for what I have done. I was awful to her. And I should never have thought of marrying you when I was guilty of so much. I wish more than anything that I had acted with more wisdom—at every stage. It would have been so much easier...than any of this.”

“Are you quite certain that you want me to find the woman? The consequences of having a baseborn daughter will be monstrous. And everyone will know...”

“Wickham will tell everyone that I knew,” she confirmed. “But my deal with a devil has run long enough. I must feel its awful sting." 


	43. Chapter 43

Jane knew Elizabeth better than Elizabeth knew herself; the next morning, rather than finding a scolding reply to her posted letter, Elizabeth was met in person by her furious older sister. The Bingleys had to leave the May's estate under the barest of pretenses, late the previous afternoon, to arrive at Longbourn so quickly.

Elizabeth hugged her sister tight. “There is more that I must tell you," she warned. 

She sat Jane and Bingley both down, and as plainly and calmly as she could, told them what she had not before. There was no relief in it.

"Oh merciful heavens!" Jane whispered, when Elizabeth finished both the confession and her plan for what she would do after the annulment.

"I cannot change my mind," Elizabeth said about her plan to leave for the continent when the legal requirements were completed. “Though you might think that I am making a mistake."

But Elizabeth was wrong. Living abroad for the rest of her life was not at all unreasonable when compared to something so shameful as bigamy. Jane only said, "It is awful, but I see the need. First, though, we will need to talk to our father. We have kept him too much in the dark. He must understand the seriousness of what is happening. Perhaps, husband, you could help explain better to him?”

"As if I really understood it myself,” Bingley said, uncertain.

Mr. Bennet could not be made to understand either, even after Elizabeth was required to confess all for a third, horrible time. He was very confused at first; and then very, _ very _ angry. Grave and anxious, he told Elizabeth in no uncertain terms that she was out of her mind for forcing a separation in the way that she planned. It was ruinous. That woman was long gone and much better forgotten. Some other solution must surely present itself! But Elizabeth was resolute. She insisted and finally obtained his concession.

“The other Mrs. Wickham should have her chance to sue for bread and board,” she said, choosing the least complicated aspect to voice.

“And then you will leave us again?” Mr. Bennet’s voice cracked as he embraced her unexpectedly. “It was easier to think of you far away when I imagined you were happy.” 

She hugged him back, tears leaking. “Forgive me, Papa.“ 

But there was work to be done before she could look forward to even that compromised peace.

***

Bingley wasted no time in engaging a lawyer—a friend of Mr. Edmund Berklee’s who had helped with that earlier fiasco. He came to Hertfordshire to fully appraise himself of the situation and spoke confidently and dismissively to Elizabeth. Oh yes, she had gotten herself into quite a bit of trouble, but the race was started and there was no stopping it now. He would see it through to the end. They all took what comfort they could from that. 

And then the gentlemen left. All of them—including Mr. Bennet and Mr. Bingley—rode for London. 

Elizabeth was left behind at Longbourn with her mother, warned that she must not go out, nor let Lucy go out further than Mr. Bennet’s property. Elizabeth was not even permitted to go home to Netherfield to see to her possessions there. She tried to make lists of things to be packed up, but it was a useless exercise of her frayed mind. 

Word came back to Hertfordshire in fits and starts, with long breaks and deficiencies that felt like cruel and justifiable punishment. Jane and Mrs. Bennet were wretched most days with worry.

Most alarming, was the morning when Elizabeth finally opened the newspaper to read about the scandal. And though she had practiced her shame on her relatives, all at once it was set for a wider audience. Some helpful acquaintances sent copies to Longbourn of the various periodicals that had picked up the story, so that she might see how each one uniquely described the sordid history of Captain George Wickham and his merry wives.

A Mrs. Harriet Wickham had been found, and apparently did not hesitate to give her account of the shocking behavior of her estranged husband. She was speaking freely to the newspapers, which in turn made the thinnest veiled allusions to Elizabeth, Jane, the Bingley family, and even to the entire Cambridge set—this summer’s most infamous group of immoral friends. 

***

With all that happened, who could blame Elizabeth for letting herself numb to the words and deeds of others? No one seemed to say much of anything to her. Only about her. 

Visitors did not come to the house. 

Letters were written only to her family. 

Articles were printed in newspapers with her name. 

It was the children alone who spoke to her without embarrassment. Even old Mrs. Hill shook her head while gossiping with the laundry maid.

Worse, even after the scandal was public, declaring the marriage invalid was still not quick work. There was no meaningful change in Elizabeth’s status, or how she could live. She must wait in case her testimony was needed, but she should never roam. “Poor, pitiful Elizabeth!” her mother repeated over and over, day after day. “Senseless, stupid, Elizabeth,” Elizabeth told herself the rest of the time. 

And when at last a judgement was decided against Wickham, no one told her until Bingley rode home the following day. She declined to return with him to Netherfield. She would finish her plans and depart for her ship straight from Longbourn. 

The next afternoon Elizabeth received her first visitor while her mother had gone out to share their feeble victory with the neighbors. 

"Mr. Darcy?” She curtsied. She managed to feel some small surprise, even through the dulling weight of her anxieties. "Welcome, sir. It is good to see you."

Mr. Darcy bowed. "It is good to see you—, he stopped. "I am afraid I do not know what to call you anymore. Would you think me rude if I simply said Elizabeth?"

She had to think for a moment. ”No. Not at all. It is no presumption with an old friend." 

"Then it is good to see you, Elizabeth."

She knew she should have met his serious tone with a smile, but it came out as only a twitch and a little bow of her head. She then asked, "Won't you please sit? My mother has gone into Meryton, but she rarely stays out long. And my father, I think, is around somewhere."

"Thank you," he said moving to the couch. "Walter outside said that Mr. Bennet had gone to call on a neighbor."

"Oh. Well when he returns, he will be happy to find you are here."

Mr. Darcy nodded his reply.

"How was your journey?"

"Good."

"You came from town or Derbyshire?"

"Town."

Elizabeth nodded. "It was not so long a ride then."

"No, not at all."

Neither person spoke while coffee came. Elizabeth poured some for herself and Mr. Darcy.

"Forgive me, sir," she said, breaking the silence, "I've not seen much company these past weeks. I think it has made me very dull."

He shook his head, dismissing her concern. “Are you well here?" he wanted to know. "Do Mrs. Bingley and your mother not sit with you?"

“Yes, of course. They are very attentive and my Aunt Philips visits from time to time. But, I have not been able to go out. There—” she paused before continuing, "there are so many rumors still going around. They are saying now that George has a third wife in Amsterdam." She looked down, sheepishly. "I do not believe it though. I think everyone only wants the story to continue."

When Mr. Darcy did not immediately say anything, she continued, "I have a meeting to speak with the rector tomorrow. He's a kind man. He has been working with the church to help me dissolve the ecclesiastical part of the union. Hopefully by mid month my affairs will be settled so I can leave."

"Leave to where?"

"To Italy I think. Bingley must still help me arrange something modest. Lucy will stay with me there until she is ready to come out. Then she can come back here to live with her cousins and Jane. I think she will be very accomplished, speaking Italian by then."

"That is a ridiculous idea."

Elizabeth sucked her breath in deep. 

"No. I am sorry," Mr. Darcy said quickly, realizing that Elizabeth's ability to receive additional criticism was meager. "It is not a ridiculous idea. Anyone could see that you are thinking of your daughter."

"Yes, I am thinking of my daughter," she said firmly.

"It is only that, with you no longer being under Wickham’s coverature, I thought that you would stay in England. He cannot hurt you now."

Her look said that she had been hurt aplenty, with her accounts emptied again and any good reputation gone. And besides, “It is not so simple to carry on with our lives when all of society knows these things about us." 

"I had hoped also," Mr. Darcy went on, "that you might come to Derbyshire."

Shaking her head, Elizabeth answered, "That is kind, but I cannot intrude on your hospitality. And it is not far enough to escape the talk.”

“You mistake me,” he tried again. “It is not to visit as a guest. I mean rather to live. If you will still marry me—”

“—…“ 

Elizabeth closed her eyes against the pain of his words. “No," she continued. Her voice was weak and her mind chaotic. "Sir, you have already saved me. Do not think that now you must make an additional honorable gesture. You have my permission to congratulate yourself on your escape and pursue a proper life with a proper family as you deserve. Any woman would be lucky to—”

“Please, Elizabeth," he interrupted. “Do not use my words against me. After all that has happened between us, you still want me to search out some childish Miss Zwick? or naive Miss Waters? Or some other woman? This offer is no charitable endeavor—I love you and I still believe that we could have a life together. There will be talk, yes, but it will fade. And meanwhile, we will find our peace. Even a polygamist will seem dull after ten years time." 

"But," she said, shaking, "it is all different now. I have made such a mess of things."

"You did this?” Darcy asked, as if he found some dark humor in the idea. “You are a good and honorable woman, Elizabeth, and my dearest friend in all the world. Do you know, I think I have never admired you more than I do now." 

Elizabeth's heart rose. Painfully.

Then very seriously, Mr. Darcy added, “It took much bravery act how you did. I hope that I have not done wrong in staying away these long weeks. I could see how it might make you worry, that I was not here with you." Elizabeth shook her head, but he went on. "I only wanted to be sure that I did not compromise your case by fueling rumors. And before then, that you had the chance to make your choices freely. That is, I did not want to make it more difficult for you if you needed—or if you wanted—to reconcile with him. There was no way that I could be impartial watching that. But I do hope that I did not cause you more harm than benefit."

Elizabeth wiped her eyes. "It was not what I wanted but I think you were right. There were choices that I had to make, that needed to be all my own. But—merciful heavens, I have missed you!"

Mr. Darcy took Elizabeth's hand and she gripped his back tight. 

"And I, you,” he said. “I slept the sleep of the saved, the night I heard that you had finished it."

She rasped out, most serious, “And I have breathed the breath of the living at every kind gesture of yours these last two years. You have been so generous when you might have hated me.” 

“Not that. Or rather, you might have hated me also.”

“Not that.”

The strength of emotions felt by Darcy and Elizabeth halted the conversation for a time; but when Mrs. Bennet had returned from her outing she found that the pair were sitting side by side on the sofa and talking over their coffee. Rather more exciting news was that they were also promised to one and other.

They married quietly four weeks later having acknowledged to each other some universal truths:

The first was that to live was to hurt others; 

The second was that to have peace was to mitigate those hurts as best you could; 

And the third was that to be loved was to find others who would do the same for you. This they promised to do, all their days.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone,  
We finally made it to the last chapter and can give Darcy and Elizabeth a bit of peace for a while. I want to thank everyone for being so patient with this storyline. I know it builds up to a bit of an angsty mess. 
> 
> I was really blow away by everyone's comments, especially on this last handful of chapters. As readers you have been so thoughtful and considerate. Your observations are astute and your questions meaningful. So thank you for being so generous with your time and thoughts.
> 
> A couple of particular thank yous:  
*Thank you to justdreaming88 for reading and commenting along the way and for just plain being nice.  
*Thank you to Laure001 for thinking enough about Elizabeth's marriage to Wickham to want to write her own less frustrating version. https://archiveofourown.org/works/13887702/chapters/51713308  
*And thank you to my sister, for all her wisdom. Unlike Jane, she doesn't at all think too highly of me to give me good advice.


End file.
